The Secret Door 2
by bensara91513
Summary: Erik is heartbroken after having to let Jenna go in order to save her life. However, when an explosion at the opera house causes a door to open again Erik has a choice—to either go through it, or stay and perish. Running through, not knowing where it would lead, Erik finds himself in a new world, inhabited by an old love. But does she love him still?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, Readers! **

**FINALLY I have for you the alternate universe I promised for ****The Secret Door****. Now, if you loved the way TSD ended, there is no real need to read this. ****The Secret Door**** ended exactly the way I imagined it ending in my mind, from its inception. However, I will admit, that somewhere along the way, I fell in love with the idea of Erik and Jenna being together more than I thought I would, and I began to wonder, "What if …?" Encouraged and aided by a few dear friends—EMCLucky, and FantomPhan33, I decided to explore the answer to that question. **

**This is just a fluffy, alternate universe possibility to what might have happened differently to keep Erik and Jenna together. If you have not read ****The Secret Door****, you ****_really_**** need to read that first in order for this to make any sense. But keep in mind, certain things ended differently. **

**Below, I have modified part of a very significant chapter for Erik and Jenna—Ch 32. The end is different, to allow for the plot of the AU. You can imagine most of the rest of TSD happening the way it originally happened, only, Erik never really fell in love with Christine, and our good doctor…well, you'll see. **

**OH, and this AU world is going to be rated M—for sexual situations in a couple of chapters. I will warn you when they are going to happen, if you would care to skip those parts. **

**I hope you enjoy this alternate universe for ****The Secret Door****. I will not call it an ending—because I hope to leave this one open ended, so that I can add some vignettes of our happy couple later on, as they come to me. **

*****This chapter is rated M.*****

Prologue

"Dance with me, Angel."

Erik looked in surprise from her offered palm to her smiling face. With raised eyebrows, he asked, "What on earth are you doing, Jenna, and why are you calling me Angel?"

"I," she said with a smug smile, raising her voice about an octave in pitch, "do not know who this Jenna is. I am Christine, and I would like to dance with you."

"Jenna," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Christine, Angel." she corrected him with a batt of her eyelashes.

"We cannot dance, Mademoiselle." Erik said, refusing to use the name Christine for his ridiculous houseguest. "There is not even any music."

"Ah, but I was under the impression that this was the seat of sweet music's throne. That there is music all around you," she gestured again for him to take her hand as she gazed piercingly into his eyes and whispered, "Can you not you hear it?"

Erik feigned annoyance, but was secretly amused, that she was using his own words against him. She truly knew how to get to him like no other he had met before. Without breaking her gaze, he took her hand in his and slowly rose to his full height. "I do not have any idea, Mademoiselle, what it is you wish me to do."

Jenna smiled a satisfied grin, realizing that she had managed to get her way. She pulled him out onto the makeshift dance floor that Nadir had provided and guided his free hand on the middle of her back. She, in turn, rested her free hand on his upper arm and taking a deep breath, said, "Just follow my lead, Angel."

Jenna had intended to lead them in a circular waltz, but she had forgotten the fact that she herself was no great dancer. Her movements were jerky and ungraceful, and the wine she and Erik had consumed was not really helping. Though he tried to follow her lead, Erik found himself being thrown a bit off balance, stumbling with the extra effort of keeping them both upright. Playing into her game, Erik muttered, "It is a good thing I am teaching you to sing and not to dance, Mademoiselle. I am not certain ballet would be the safest profession for you."

"Oh Angel," she smiled tightly, barely resisting the urge to step on his toes, "The things you say certainly sweep a lady off her feet."

"No my dear," he replied with a smile, trying desperately to hold in a chuckle, as she bumbled them around a bit more, "I am afraid that is your dancing."

She tried to sweep them into another arch on the dance floor, but the ankle she had twisted in her flight from Buquet suddenly buckled and she tripped almost taking them both down to the floor. Erik caught her fall, of course, pulling her tightly to himself in the process, and finding, once he had, that he had no great desire to let her go.

Gazing into her slightly mortified eyes, he said, "Perhaps I should lead this dance after all, Mademoiselle."

Jenna merely nodded as she felt Erik begin to move them slowly from side to side. His movements were fluid, graceful, and she felt suddenly, like she was floating on air. "Angel," she murmured as he turned them in gentle circles around the dance floor, holding her so close that their bodies were barely a breath away from touching.

"Mmmm?" he responded, taking a deep sniff of her hair.

"It appears as if the music has slowed," her voice was trembling because of his nearness, wishing that this moment would never have to end.

"The music of the night has many tempos, Mademoiselle." His voice was thick and rich, eyes half closed, as if drunk on the sensations he too was now feeling. "Sometimes a wild, frenzied allegro, other times, it is andante with a strong, pulsing rhythm. Still other times," he whispered, as he lowered her into a dip, and slowly, fluidly guided her up again, brushing the entire length of her body against his, "A sweet adagio, languorous and slow, floating," he breathed, the hand on her back reaching up to tangle in her hair, "flying on the wings of the song."

"And you said angels couldn't dance." she whispered, gazing up at him, falling deeply under his hypnotic spell.

"Angels cannot dance." He reiterated, his voice hushed and low. "But men can."

In that moment, that blessed moment that seemed to last for hours but was spent in a heartbeat, Jenna saw Erik's eyes flutter completely closed as he leaned forward and allowed his lips to brush against hers. Soft as a feather, but electric like lightning, the gesture was over almost before it had begun, and Jenna's eyes shot open to see Erik's gaze hazy with desire. Oh how she had dreamed of this moment, when their lips would meet and he would finally claim her as his own. But now as she saw his head once again slowly descend to steal another kiss, she suddenly heard that voice inside her head. It's not you he's kissing, it admonished. You know he's dreaming of Christine. How can you accept his kisses when you know they're not for you?

It took every ounce of strength she had, but Jenna pulled slightly away from his embrace, and looked up at him, shaking him a little as she did so. "Erik, I'm. . ." she began, intending to break the spell and remind him she was not really Christine.

But then he opened his eyes, that brown and blue gaze piercing directly into her soul, and whispered, with a smile, "Jenna. . ."

Jenna. Jenna! She felt her heart give a leap and she let out a quiet whimper, because in the heat of his desire, in his impassioned state, Erik knew her, and had called her name.

She reached her arms up slowly, holding his face in her hands, and pulled him to her for another precious kiss. This time, when their lips met, there was exquisite pressure, Erik's mouth at once both firm and pliant against hers. She felt his arms tighten around her waist and she sighed as she felt him pull her even closer to him, her lips slowly beginning to dance against his. Jenna felt him shudder at first, but soon he began to match her movements with a sensuous shifting of his own.

Slow and unhurried, long and languorous, it was the first moment of pure, unadulterated bliss Erik had ever experienced in his life. When they parted, for the imperative of breathing, Erik studied Jenna, eyes glazed in wonder, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "Is this real, Jenna? Are you real?"

With a loving smile, she shifted her head so that she could lightly press her lips to the hand that was stroking her face. "I promise, Erik. I am real."

"Never before," he told her, his voice a thready whisper, "Has there been anyone in this world who could see fit to kiss me."

Jenna's heart clenched at the reminder of how lost and alone this remarkable man had been his entire life. She looked directly in his eyes, tangling her fingers in his thick black hair, and said, "Then we have a lot of time to make up for, don't we?" When she pulled him back to her mouth, it was with an abandon that had not been there before. Her tongue traced the line of his lips, and when they parted for her tentatively, she nipped and nibbled at them, causing him to groan low in his throat at the tightening sensation he began to feel deep in his stomach. When she felt his arms hold her even closer, almost crushing her against him, she went to deepen the kiss, only to find that the mask got in the way. Gently she pulled back from the kiss and her fingers began to loosen the ties of his mask.

Instinctively, Erik stilled her hand, looking, for a moment, panicked. "Please, Erik," she implored him. "I want there to be nothing between us."

Though his hand still held hers, he allowed her fingers to continue their work, and when they were finished and the mask fell away, he was amazed to feel her lips grace the crevices and folds that her fingers once traced. Slowly, so deliciously slowly, Jenna's mouth traveled every inch of that papery skin, that had only once before felt the kindness of her sweet hands. She placed delicate kisses on his eyelids and forehead, and nuzzled his cheek with her own, grazing her lips gently against his jawline on her way back to his mouth. When she looked up at him, with the intention of kissing his lips once more, she noticed that there were now tears in his eyes.

"Jenna. . .I. . ." He struggled for words to express the raw emotion he felt at what she had just done. "You. . ." at a loss, he settled for something far less profound than what he wanted to express, "Are so beautiful."

Eyes shining with tears of her own, she reached up and kissed him firmly on the lips before saying, "So are you, my Erik."

With a whimper, he crushed her to him and his lips crashed down desperately on hers. Even his mother had refused to show him the slightest modicum of affection, but this woman, this beautiful, magnificent woman kissed his lips, kissed his face, and then claimed him as hers. The sweetness in his heart was almost too much to bear.

When Jenna parted her lips to deepen their kiss, he was right there with her, melting into her, almost forgetting where his lips ended and hers began. He felt his legs begin to sway, and before he lost his balance entirely, he lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the settee, never once abandoning their kiss.

Firmly nestled on his lap, no longer having to put forth any frivolous effort to stand, Jenna was free to marvel at the magic of his kiss. His lips, so misshapen and deformed, proved themselves quite capable of creating the most exquisite sensations. Firm on one side of his mouth, yet soft on the other, his kiss was at once commanding and yielding, vulnerable and strong, and so uniquely Erik. Jenna felt the kiss growing deeper and deeper, as their tongues sought one another in an impassioned, fervent dance.

When the intensity of the kiss had threatened to overwhelm, Erik broke away, panting heavily. "Oh, my Jenna," he whispered, grasping a handful of her precious hair, and bringing it forward, burying his face in it and breathing it in, letting the scent intoxicate him once more. "You are exquisite."

"And you, my Erik," Jenna purred, as she craned her neck for the kisses he was now trailing down her throat, "are sublime."

Though she was still seated on his lap, entirely ensconced in his arms, with their next kiss, Jenna could not help but feel that she needed to be closer to him—so much closer. She let her hands trail across his back, adoring the feel of the taut muscles beneath the fabric of his clothing. When her hands reached his chest, her fingers began to work the buttons on his shirt. Erik broke the kiss and looked at her questioningly.

"Jenna?" he rasped.

"I need to feel you Erik," she explained the burning desire she felt in her chest. "I need to touch you."

Erik groaned in response, as she continued to fiddle with the buttons, unable to utter more than a breathy "Jenna," when she began trailing hot kisses down his throat. When at last the buttons were done, she temporarily stopped her ministrations to push open the front of his shirt, and gaze at her prize. She winced at what she saw.

His entire chest was crisscrossed with scars, obviously not designed by nature. Some were raised and almost white. Others were still pink, almost red in hue. There was not a region of his chest that was untouched by the evidence of past cruelties, and Jenna blinked to hold back tears.

"Still beautiful, Jenna?" Erik asked darkly, a bit of bitterness entering his voice. "Still sublime?" Jenna felt him emit a mirthless snort as he cast down his eyes and looked away from her.

"Let me show you how much." Jenna responded, as she leaned forward and brought her lips to his battered chest. First she placed a tender kiss over his heart, which she knew was the most beautiful, yet most tortured part of his body. She allowed her lips to journey from there and soon they had traveled the path of every wound, her tongue tracing every scar. Her hands kneaded and soothed the oft-abused flesh, teaching pleasure in a place that had heretofore only known pain. By the sounds of the little gasps and moans that escaped Erik's lips, and the way his fingers tangled in her hair to pull her closer, she got the impression that he was enjoying the lesson, which only urged her to kiss him and touch him more. If she could erase every lash of cruelty with each fevered kiss she would gladly do so. Instead she prayed that her touches, her kisses would replace the remembrances of cruelty with the expression of her love, for that is what she wanted Erik to know in his heart at this moment—that he was loved.

When she wrapped her arms around his back and lifted her lips to adore the tender skin of his neck, she felt that he was trembling. "Erik," she asked, knowing that she had to check in with him—she had to be gentle. "Are you alright?"

"Oh Jenna. . ." he sighed, looking in her eyes with absolute awe and adoration. "I am more than alright. I just don't know what to do with. . .these feelings. . ." his voice faltered as a wave of emotion washed over him. "Jenna, I just don't know what to say."

"Shhhh." she whispered, hugging him tighter and kissing his lips gently to quiet him. "You don't have to say anything. Just trust them, Erik. And know that they are real." She kissed him fully once more on the mouth, breaking away only to say, "And know that they are shared."

Erik's moans grew stronger and more frequent as his body responded to Jenna's continued kisses and touches. He hissed in a ragged breath when she flicked her fingers across his nipples and he groaned deeply in his throat as she pressed her body tightly against his. As she ran her fingers through his hair, to pull his mouth even deeper into their kiss, he felt a burning ache join the sweetness that was filling his soul. Long repressed desire was re-awakening in his body, and as she shifted slightly in his lap, moving against his ready manhood, he had to pull away and bite his lips together to stifle a shout that threatened to break loose.

"Erik?" she questioned, her eyes enjoying the look of absolute rapture on his face.

"I want, Jenna." he gasped, breathlessly, as he shifted his own hips to try to recreate the sensation. "I need."

A sensual smile curled on her lips as she asked, "What do you want, Erik? What do you need?"  
"I want. . ." he panted, looking in her eyes, his hand cupping her flushed cheek, "I need to touch you," he implored, asking her permission. "As you have touched me."

"Then touch me, Erik," she murmured, reaching for his hand and slowly bringing it down to rest just above the neckline of her dress. "I am yours."

Erik gazed at her reverently, as he watched his hand carefully trace the outline of her bosom, which had, just heartbeats before, been pressed so exquisitely against his bare chest. With agonizing slowness, he allowed his fingers to trail along the gentle curves of her breasts, pausing briefly at her gasp when his thumb brushed her nipple through her dress. "Do you like that, Jenna?" he asked in a hushed whisper, remembering how good it felt when she had touched him similarly.

"It is heavenly," she answered, eyes closed, her head falling back as she drank in the sensation of his hands on her, loving each feeling, but aching for more.

Encouraged by the blissful expression on her face, he cupped her breasts in his hands, applying more pressure this time, as his face fell forward and he trailed hot, but gentle kisses to where her breasts swelled above her neckline. When she arched forward, effectively burying his head in the sweet valley of her cleavage, Erik soon felt he too desired more, and gazing in her eyes to gauge her acceptance, he slowly began to unfasten the buttons on the back of her dress. "Please, Erik," she nodded, her eyes glazed with need, "Yes, please."

Erik had often wondered why women's fashions required so many complicated layers, but in that moment he discovered the true reason why. It was to forestall the sweet Elysium, that earthly paradise that occurs when a man first gazes upon his woman's breasts. Though deft at many things, Erik's trembling fingers stumbled and erred as he tried to free her sweet flesh from the confines of its clothing. When Jenna noticed a look of despair cross his face, she removed her hands briefly from his person so that she could help him achieve his goal. Bodice unbuttoned and pushed away, Erik muttered a brief prayer of thanks that Jenna had never taken to wearing a corset. He gazed at her body, so beautiful to behold, and slowly, gently, he pulled her shift away.

When she was bare to him, Erik swallowed hard, feeling a shudder run through his entire body at her sheer loveliness. Almost reverently, Erik reached forth a hand to touch the now unfettered treasure that was presented before him, luxuriating in its silken texture, delighting in its warmth. "Jenna," he marveled in wonder as his hands continued to knead and explore, "You are so soft. And yet," he added, as he delicately pinched the nibs in the center of each breast, "here you are so hard."

"It is because of you, Erik," she told him, her voice a ragged and harsh whisper. "Because of the desire you awake in me."

Erik moaned and lowered his lashes as he bent to take one of her pink pearls between his lips. As he suckled her into his mouth, Jenna could not hold back a cry of sheer abandon as she threw her head back and clutched him closer to her. "Erik," she whimpered, "Oh, Erik."

"My Jenna," he moaned against her breast at the sound of longing in her voice, "you make such sweet music." Too far gone to make any reply, she simply shifted her body so that she was straddling his hips. With her skirts hiked up, so that there were only his trousers and her pantalettes between them, she pulled his head up so she could once again claim him with her lips. Pressing her breasts firmly against his bare chest, she wrapped him tightly in her arms as she ground herself against him. "Oh, Jenna," he whimpered, his body raging for release from this exquisite torture. "You have truly shown me the magic of an embrace."

"Erik," she moaned, pressing his head against her throat as his lips once again began a fevered journey down her neck. "I could die in your arms."

Erik took a moment to look deeply into her eyes. When her lashes lifted and she stared right back at him, he said to her in an imploring tone, "I would rather you live in them."

Jenna whimpered at the implication of those words and pulled him desperately back to her lips. When they were each heaving and gasping for air, she trailed her finger down to the closure of his trousers, now stretched and tight with his need. She touched him on the outside of his clothing and began to release the fasteners which held him apart from her. "Make love to me Erik," she entreated as one by one the closures came undone, freeing his arousal to her loving ministrations.

"Truly, Jenna?" Erik murmured, sure that he was dying due to the heaven of her touch.

"Truly, my Erik." Jenna whispered, lifting herself so that he could carefully tug her pantalettes away.

When they were each naked to one another, Erik placed his hands on her waist and gazing deeply into her eyes, slowly, carefully lowered her onto himself. Sensations, like a thousand flames, burst in his brain as he felt her soft, wet folds close around him. He had never felt such pure bliss before, such unadulterated joy and. . .

If Erik had been capable of rational thought, in that moment he would have realized that indeed, he was acting under the influence of some elusive emotion—the same one that had been tugging at his soul every time Jenna looked at him, smiled at him, touched him. In that moment when he was buried deep inside her core, her beautiful breasts pressed against him, her head thrown back in pleasure as her arms wrapped tighter around him, pulling him closer and closer still, logical consideration would have proven, without a doubt, that this woman had become a partner to him, a confidant, a mate. This was the woman who took the curse of his face, and somehow made him feel it was a blessing, just in the way she looked at him. This was the woman who took the pain in his heart and turned it into laughter. With the proper analysis, it would have been obvious that if this was to be the culmination of his lifetime of sorrows, he would gladly go through each one again, a thousand times over, if it meant he would one day reach this moment with this extraordinary woman. But now that they were one—one body, one soul—Erik was not capable of thought. He could only feel. And everything he felt in his heart told him he loved her.

Once they were joined, Jenna began to move. Slowly at first, but steadily faster, Jenna glided upon him in a maddening rhythm, pulling him, tugging him, urging him with her ecstatic moans and her breathless sighs to join her in the dance. Erik thrust forward to meet her and matched her movements with his own. And there was no room for rational thoughts when the rising surge of pleasure began to burst and Erik was moving in wild, erratic jerks as he spilled himself into her pulsing, welcoming womb.

When they found their release, they clung to one another, as if each was essential for the other to go on living. Afterward, panting and gasping for air, Jenna collapsed onto Erik's chest and he cradled her in his arms, slowly stroking circles on her now damp back, placing little soft kisses on the top of her head, as he hummed to her a melody in his head. And even without the benefit of rational thought, bereft of the analysis with which he tended to approach new situations, as Erik placed his lips adoringly against Jenna's temple, her forehead, her cheek, he whispered, on an angel's breath, "Jenna, I love you."

But in response, Jenna began to tremble. At first he thought it was in reaction to their passion, but the tremors became more and more violent. "Jenna?" he called, all vestiges of his ecstasy being replaced with concern, as her head lolled to the side, and the shaking consistently got worse. He pulled her face to him to look into her eyes, and noticed, with horror, that they had rolled back into her head.

"Jenna," Erik was now frantic trying to get through to her. He lifted her gently in his arms and laid her down on the settee, kneeling beside her and stroking her face as her body continued to convulse. "Jenna, please," he implored her to answer him, taking one of her hands in his and squeezing it firmly, tears flooding his eyes. "Jenna, please don't leave me. Please come back," he begged.

When the tremors had finally subsided, Jenna lay unconscious on the settee. Covering her to her neck with a blanket that Nadir had placed nearby, Erik pushed her hair away from her eyes, and gently stroked her cheek. "Oh, my Jenna," he cried, as he lowered his head to her chest and sobbed. "What have I done?

**Oh, poor dear Erik. What HAVE you done? Nothing, my darling, except fall in love. Now, if you've read this story, you know that Jenna eventually goes home, because Erik lies to her in order to save her life. That still happens here, but, at that point, things change. . .**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to all who have reviewed and favorited/followed my story! Here's where the fun really begins. (Well, for us. I think Erik and Jenna enjoyed themselves a bit last chapter. Until the seizure took hold.) **

**Now we get to see what they've been up to since Jenna made her journey through the door. **

**Enjoy!**

**CH 1 **

Jenna opened the door and Chris was standing there, ready with a friendly hug of greeting. "Hey," she said sweetly, moving into his arms.

"Hi there, beautiful," he smiled in response, squeezing her tightly.

Jenna looked up at him, his blond curls framing a kind, smiling face, and she wished with all of her heart that she could love him. He had made it clear so many times since she had awakened that if she merely said the word, he would be hers. He never pressured her, somehow knowing instinctively that under pressure, she would not simply break, she would shatter. But his feelings were apparent in his unwavering support, his reassuring touches, his willingness to listen when she needed to just let out all the pain. He was there for her—he was her friend. She understood that he wanted more. He wanted her love. He wanted her heart. It was a great injustice to him that her heart was completely and irrevocably gone—locked behind a secret door in a labyrinthine world full of darkness and music and…_Erik._

That was why she could never be his. Chris was everything bright and joyful and beautiful in this world, but her heart yearned for sweet enveloping darkness, and the whispered rush of water as it flowed through the ground…through the centuries. She missed clandestine romps through the woods, and secretive missions behind hollow walls. She ached for the touch of a man who thought himself a monster, yet was in love with an angel. _Always Christine,_ she remembered, her eyes focused off into the distance, _never me_.

"Are you ok?" Chris asked, as he watched her face, her expression so far away.

"I'm fine," she said with a smile that never reached her eyes. "Listen," she began, "I appreciate you coming with me to my appointments so very much, but you really _don't_ have to do this. I'm a big girl, and I know it…hurts you…"

Chris rolled his eyes and snickered, turning his face away from her a bit so as not to betray the sadness in his own soul. "Jenna, come on. I've been going with you to your doctor's appointments since the beginning."

"I know," she interjected, "And I appreciate it, but if you ever feel uncomfortable…"

"Do you believe this drivel?" he asked, directing his gaze downward toward her swollen belly. "Seriously, your mother talks too much! Come on," he said, once again looking her in the eyes. "We're going to be late for your appointment, and I, for one, want to see how the little guy is doing." He took her arm and guided her toward the door.

Jenna sighed and grabbed her purse off the entryway table. "You spoil me, do you know that?"

"You deserve every bit of it." He looked at her intensely for a moment, and reached out to brush an errant strand of hair away from her face. His loving gaze reminded her of another's that she could not—_just could not—_forget. She looked down, and, picking up on her discomfort, Chris straightened and returned to his light banter. "So, you're getting another sonogram today, right?"

"Right," she affirmed, as she reached to close the door behind them. They walked to the elevator, Jenna's swollen feet not quite up to the stairs today.

"I wonder if he's going to wave at me again," Chris mused as the elevator doors opened before them.

"What do you mean, wave at _you_?" she countered, pressing the button for the ground floor. "He was waving at his mother. The tech even typed on the picture 'Hi MOM' "

"They were merely placating you," he scoffed. "Why would he wave at you? He's with you all the time. He was waving at me. He knows that _I'm_ the ticket to fun around here. Hey, did you figure out a name yet?"

"No." she looked up and watched the lights change as the elevator made its descent. 6…5…4…

"Well, you better come up with something quick. The baby is going to be here soon."  
Jenna sighed, "I know."

"You don't want to be stuck with a naming dilemma at the moment you see his face. I mean, I'm sure you'd come up with something brilliant, like Blue, or Indigo."

Jenna gave him a good-natured punch in the arm for making fun of the name of her beloved feline. "Watch it, you!"

"I just don't want my future baseball buddy to be stuck with a name like Puce. There is precedent."

Jenna rolled her eyes. "Oh, would you stop it! I'm not going to name my child after a color."

"Well then, how about James, or John, or, hey, maybe Chris, after his wonderful uncle, who he will hopefully take after in every way. . ."

Jenna let out another heavy sigh, "Oh, brother…" she groaned, as the doors to the elevator finally opened, and they made their way to Chris's car. "And you say _I_ talk too much!"

* * *

"Congratulations," Erik raised a glass to the Persian, whose eyes were shining. Nadir, and his handsome new bride Antoinette, clinked their own glasses in return and took a sip of champagne, sealing their toast with a kiss. Though Erik smiled, the expression did not quite reach his eyes. He was happy for the swarthy man in front of him, who, Erik supposed, could be considered his only friend. He had been surprised at the relationship between the interminably irritating former Daroga and the formidable ballet mistress and box-keeper, but Erik had to admit, they made a good match. The Persian was in need of her strength of character to ground him, yet, she seemed to be truly touched by his sense of whimsy. Erik could spy the tell tale signs of happiness behind the Daroga's eyes whenever he and Antoinette were together, and he supposed that was the most a man could ask for in life. It was more than Erik would ever know_. That's not true_, a voice inside his head taunted. _You knew happiness…once._

Erik's gaze trailed to the fire as he recalled curls that shone in the candlelight, laughter that pealed like a bell, and lips that joined with his so fervently. And then he saw her eyes, so soft and affectionate as they gazed upon him, filling with tears as he deceived her. "I love you," she had spoken, with a heart brave and true. And he had stomped on it, broken it, saw it shatter into tiny shards of agony as he looked into her eyes and told her he was in love with another.

It was all a lie, of course, designed to get her mind to take her back to the century in which she belonged. He could not reveal his own desperate love for her, knowing that if she chose to stay with him, her body would perish. He could not lose her—he could not let her die. But finding her gone when he returned to his lair had felt like a death anyway. It had been a struggle just to breathe, knowing that he would no longer inhale Jenna's scent, her spirit no longer permeating the air around him. It would have been enough to know that _she_ somehow continued to live. He would have been content to lie there by the shore of his lake and wither away, simply allowing his heart to stop beating. It only beat for _her_, after all, and she was no longer there to sustain it.

But the Daroga saw things differently. He pulled Erik back into existence, shaming him with thoughts of his responsibility to Christine—another innocent victim of his monstrous ways. He had used her as the lie to crush his Jenna's heart. But for that, _she_ could not be held to blame. "You're her teacher, Erik," he'd cajoled. "She wants you to be there—she wants you to share in her triumph. You made it possible, after all. Do it for her. Do it for Jenna."

Jenna's name was enough to make Erik take action. He had gone to opening night, and then visited Christine in her dressing room after, to congratulate her on a job well done. He supposed he did her another service that night. He revealed himself to her, as a man, not an angel. And the sight of his face had been all the encouragement she'd needed to run—no, _fly_—into the Vicomte's open arms. She had not been cruel. She had not screamed, or insulted, or threatened in any way. She had simply…made her choice. It was only natural, when faced with a monster, for her to have turned to the light. After all, not everyone could be an angel. Not everyone could be like Jenna—his sweet, _pure_ Jenna.

Jenna was the only one who saw his face and thought him beautiful. She was the only one who touched him, and kissed him and drew him close when all others had pushed him away. She had _loved_ him and he had destroyed her—a monster, spoiling all that was good. He'd always known his touch was poison. But Jenna had been too close not to touch.

"Keep brooding into the fire like that, Erik, and I might be fooled into thinking you were happy for Antoinette and me." Nadir said, walking over to him by the hearth.

Erik looked over at him drolly. "I am happy for _you_, Daroga, that you finally found someone who could tolerate your presence. Rather unfortunate series of events for _Madame _though, if you ask me—her losing her wits and agreeing to wed you."

Nadir guffawed loudly at his friend's dry humor. When Erik simply smirked and looked back at the fire, Nadir commented, "You are thinking of _her_, aren't you?"

Erik took a deep breath before responding, never breaking his stare at the flames. "I am _always_ thinking of her, Daroga."

"I know you wanted this with Jenna, Erik," Nadir pressed, trying to make his friend see that he understood his melancholy. "Marriage…a family."

"It was not to be, " Erik interrupted his friend, smiling tightly.

"You did the right thing, Erik."

"Did I, Daroga?" he smirked as he stared at the dancing flames.

"Of course you did, Erik. She will live because of you," he insisted.

"But is it truly living if your heart has been broken?" Erik gave voice to the fear he had harbored since that fateful day months ago. He had sent Jenna home to live, but in the process, had he destroyed her chances at love—at the kind of joy she deserved?

Nadir was about to protest when their conversation was interrupted, "Mother, Monsieur Khan, we must get out!"

Erik was surprised to see little Giry, running into his lair from the corridor that Nadir usually used to enter. Black grime covered her face, her dress torn and ruined with soot. Her golden curls were wildly disheveled and she wore a look of despair on her face. "How did she get here?" he demanded of Nadir.

"I may have shown her the way," Nadir answered in a non-committal fashion, never turning to meet Erik's glare.

"DAROGA!" Erik growled.

"Oh, it hardly matters, Erik. Can't you see that something has happened?" Nadir assured his friend before turning to Meg. "What is it dear?"

"There's been an explosion!" Meg exclaimed, reaching out and grabbing Nadir's hand, as her mother hurried over and put an arm around her shaking frame.

"An explosion?" Erik asked the girl with concern. "What exactly do you mean, girl?"

Meg looked over at him, still breathing heavily, and her eyes grew wide. "Monsieur Phantom…but, what are you doing here?"  
Erik rolled his eyes. "Mademoiselle, I live here…"

"But we thought …" she faltered for a moment, but then continued. "That is…we believed it was _you_ who set off the explosion."

Erik bristled visibly at this revelation, but suddenly felt a large boom rattle the ground. Meg screamed, and her mother pulled her close. Erik put out his arms for balance as Nadir exclaimed, "What the hell was that?"  
"My guess," Erik answered, his eyes looking up and all around cautiously, "Is that it was another explosion."

Dust began to rain down from above, as pieces of Erik's ceiling began to crumble and fall to the ground.

"Meg," Antoinette asked, tearfully, "what is happening?"

"We were upstairs," Meg began, her voice in a panic, "cleaning up after the ceremony, when we heard a loud bang and everything began to shake. We didn't know what had happened, until the room started to fill with smoke. Everyone was screaming and running for the exits, but I remembered that you and Monsieur Kahn had come down here and I…I had to come find you. I had to get you out." Meg broke out into hysterics, clinging closely to her mother, trembling wildly in her arms, as yet another explosion rocked the very ground they were standing on.

Erik sucked in a harsh breath. "Those blasts," he said quietly, leaning closer to Nadir, who was staring at him in horror. "They're close."

Nadir shook his head, "How can this be happening? How can they be so close? Who knows about this place?"

"Only you and…" he looked over at the two women huddled together, "your new family."

"And Buquet!" Nadir snapped, realization suddenly coming to him. "You told me that Buquet found Jenna wandering around in the tunnels. He knew you lived down here. He knew about your lair."

"But he's gone…"

"But what if he came back?" Nadir asked, as more rubble began to come crashing down from the ceiling. "What if he wanted revenge on the opera house for putting him out on the streets? Or on you, for thwarting his attack on Jenna?"

"Well then," Erik exclaimed as yet another loud bang rang out above them. "It would appear he has succeeded. Come on," he said, ushering his friend and the women toward the cave at the end of the lake. "We can't stay in the house here. The ceiling is falling and is going to collapse any second."

"But we'll be trapped by the lake," Nadir protested.

"Would you rather be crushed when the ceiling crashes down?" Erik asked, shoving Nadir toward the passageway. "That cave is not man made. It's been around for centuries. The rock will hold."

Erik made certain that Nadir, Antoinette and Meg made it safely to the little alcove at the back of the cave. He was just about ready to join them when he heard a quiet cry coming from under the settee. "Ayesha," he sighed, and ran back to retrieve the trembling feline, who had grown into a long and elegant cat since Jenna had brought her home many months ago. She clawed at him in panic, but he managed to tuck her under his jacket before making his way back toward the cave. Antoinette and Meg were still huddled tightly together, with Nadir shielding the two of them with his body. Erik joined them just as another blast hit. He was knocked from his feet, thankfully never losing grip on Ayesha. He looked up in horror to see the walls of the cave beginning to shake.

"Take cover!" he yelled.

"Mother, I'm scared!" Meg cried.

Antoinette pulled her daughter closer, hugging her tight against her. "Hush," she whispered comfortingly, stroking her hair. "It'll be alright." Looking over at her husband with tearful eyes, she murmured, "I love you, Nadir."

"I love you, Antoinette," the Persian whispered back, pressing his lips to his wife's forehead.

Erik watched the display of familial tenderness, holding Ayesha tightly in his arms, as the very walls of the cave began to crumble around him. He felt stones pelting his head and he knew they were done for, until the white lights flashed before his eyes, and it appeared.

Wooden slats, weathered and tied together with a heavy rope, frayed at the edges, suddenly stood before him. Light was peeking through the cracks in the wood, and as he stared at the apparition, he reached for the antiqued golden handle and opened the door.

**Well, that was explosive. (Haha!) So, Jenna is good friends with Chris, but can't stop loving Erik. And Erik was fond of Christine, but his heart always belonged to Jenna. Both are lost without each other. . .and then, BOOM! (At least Buquet is good for something, huh?). **

**You may have noticed that Chris no longer looks like Erik. If you're interested in who I envision as Chris, OR Erik, ask in a review, and I'll be happy to PM you. But even if you're not interested in who I envision, PLEASE review and let me know what you think! Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all for your reviews! I think it's time to see what happens to our favorite Parisians when they open the door!**

**CH 2**

There was no long undulating tunnel with earthen floor upon which to step gingerly, as they approached the other side. As soon as Erik opened the door, lights flashed all around them as a sudden forward motion propelled them toward their destination. There did not appear to be a choice involved—the universe was deciding to relocate them for its own purposes.

When they finally stopped moving, they were heaped together on a cold, hard floor. Erik opened his eyes first, to find that the floor was made of some sort of gray tile, a type that he had never seen before. He looked up slowly, to take in their surroundings. They were in a dark room, daylight just barely peeking in from two exterior windows over which blinds had been drawn. Two empty beds with rails on the sides took up most of the space, and strange machines were lined up along the beige painted walls, wires sticking out from all sides. Another, interior window was on the far side of the wall, and Erik could see men and women milling about some type of hallway, rushing to and fro. It did not escape Erik that most of them were wearing the same strange, loose fitting outfits that Jenna had been wearing when she'd first arrived in his lair.

"Are you alright?" Erik heard from behind him. "Annie, Meg, speak to me! Are you both alright?"

Nadir was on the ground, scrambling toward his dumbfounded family, from whom he must have become separated in transit. Antoinette looked at him nodding, and held her arms out to him, drawing him close for a warm embrace. Nadir clung to her for dear life, whispering, "My darling, I was so afraid I had lost you."

As the lovers held each other fast, Meg pushed herself to a sitting position and looked over at Erik, who's eyes were transfixed on the window. The feliine he had grabbed in the final moments before…_whatever_…had happened was scrambling to get out from under his coat, but still, he stared, oblivious to the sharp pinches of her claws and the high pitched mewls of her voice. "Monsieur Phantom?" Meg asked in a small voice, still somewhat wary of the man who had been a figure of fear around the opera house for so long.

Erik closed his eyes and sighed, letting loose his arms and giving Ayesha the temporary freedom she so desired. "My name is Erik, Mademoiselle Giry. I have not been the Phantom for many months now."

"Monsieur…E-e-erik," she began again, finding the name strange on her lips, after having used his former title for so long. "What has happened?"

"I believe, Mademoiselle…" Erik responded, still staring at the window.

"Meg," she interrupted him.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle?" he finally turned to her, with narrowed eyes, questioning why she had interrupted him.

"My…" she responded, feeling a bit regretful that she had spoken in the first place. "My name is Meg. If I am to call you Erik, you…you should probably call me Meg."

Erik continued to look at her quietly for a moment, his irritation at her interruption fading when Ayesha jumped into her lap, and the girl immediately began stroking her fur, never deflecting her eyes from his gaze. She certainly appeared to be her mother's daughter—kind, yet formidable and brave. And she was going to need to be.

"Meg," he began again, "I do believe that we have travelled into the future."

"What?" she exclaimed in confusion. "How…how is that possible?"

Ah! Erik was beginning to believe he would never escape that question. Although nothing around them was as it had been in the opera house, things were beginning to feel eerily familiar. "I do not know how," Erik answered, looking once again, at the window. "All I know is that this sort of thing has happened…before."

Meg stared at him until she felt her mothers' hand on her shoulder, pulling her in for a reassuring hug. Nadir crawled over to Erik, making sure to stay out of view. He joined his friend in staring out into the hall for a few silent moments until turning to Erik and saying, "It's happened again, hasn't it?"

Erik nodded solemnly, "Yes, Daroga, I believe it has. Only this time, _we_ have been thrust, somehow, into her world."

* * *

"Hi there, baby!" Chris smiled as he gazed at the screen. "You see, Jenna," he said, nudging her when the ghostly infant on the monitor lifted a hand to his face as if in a wave. "That was for me!"

Jenna rolled her eyes and smiled. At that moment, she honestly could not decide who was cuter—her tiny son on the computer screen, or the lanky, curly haired doctor seated next to her, leaning in to the screen, trying to get a better view of his "baseball buddy." She was so grateful that her child would have Chris in his life. Her friend would be there, she knew, to teach her son all about baseball, to help with science projects, to give him advice about girls. She knew without a doubt, that with "Uncle" Chris, her child would always be in the best of hands. And it was a good thing, too, that he would have such a fine father figure to look up to, since his own father was worlds away.

Oh, Erik. How Jenna wished he were here to share this moment with her. She could just picture him holding her hand, his other hand lovingly patting her pregnant belly—earning him a scowl from the nurse. His face would light up at the sight of their baby, and he would glance over at her and place a tender kiss on her forehead. And he would dream—he would dream of the many things that _he_ could teach their son. She imagined the block towers that Erik would teach their boy to build tall and strong—making him the envy of toddlers everywhere. She could practically hear the magnificent concertos their son would be able to play at about age five with Erik as a teacher. Heaven forbid he ever hit the wrong key! She smiled as she realized Erik would be able to show their son the easiest way to get out of any type of trouble, making it possible for him to get away with murder—hopefully not literally. That might not be such a good thing, of course, but she was sure her son would also posses Erik's twinkle in his eye, and smirking, crooked smile that would lead her to immediately forgive him. Yes, Jenna could forgive Erik anything.

She remembered the night they created their child—tenderness and acceptance, turning to passion and ecstasy. She had been trying to push him toward Christine—whom she had known, even then, was the ultimate object of his desires. But for that night—for that glorious, life changing night—he had desired her. He had held her to him, crushing her tightly in his arms, adoring her body with his hands and his lips. It had all been so new to him, but when they made love, when their bodies were one, it had been as if their very souls had joined, each of their hearts changing places with the other.

She had played that night over and over in her head so many times in the past nine months. Each kiss, each touch, each sigh and moan of pleasure. Nothing before in her life had _ever_ felt so right. As she lay there in his arms, their breaths beginning to calm, their heartbeats evening, Jenna believed, for the first time in her life, that she was loved—truly and completely loved.

But then it had all soured—the beginning of the end.

The seizure had gripped her quickly, wrenching her from consciousness before she had been able to declare her love. And then, when she had awakened, Erik had been so cold. She convinced herself that he had just been nervous—just been worried about her health. But when the day came that she had finally spoken her feelings, he expressed his love just the same—only his was for Christine.

"Look, Jenna!" Chris's voice pulled her out of her memory. "She got it right this time!" He was pointing, rather animatedly, at the fact that the nurse had typed 'Hi Uncle Chris' on today's still shot of the baby waving.

The nurse chuckled at Chris's exuberance, "I hope you don't mind!" she said to Jenna apologetically. "He's just so excited."

Jenna giggled a bit herself. "It's fine," she assured the nurse. "He deserves it!" She glanced over at Chris and gave him a sweet smile.

"He's going to be perfect, Jenna!" Chris said, returning her smile and giving her hand a quick squeeze. "Just like his mom."

Jenna smiled again as she took another glance at her baby on the screen. Yes, she was happy that the baby would have Chris in his life-just as she was happy she had him in hers.

* * *

"_Her_ world, Erik?" Nadir looked at his friend incredulously. "Do you really think so?"

"Look at what they are wearing, Daroga," Erik replied, making a sweeping gesture at the window. "That is exactly how Jenna was dressed when she appeared in my lair. And this room—it is obviously not like any room from our time. What if," he continued, speaking in hushed tones to his friend, a troubled expression on his face, "What if the explosions opened up another door—this time, pushing us forward instead of tossing her back?"

Nadir listened to his friend's ponderings before a smile broke out over his face. "But Erik, this is wonderful. Don't you see? If the universe thrust us forward, that must mean it wants to give you a second chance—with Jenna."

Erik shook his head. "A second chance at what, Daroga? At hurting her? At breaking her heart?"

"No, you fool!" Nadir snapped. "A second chance at _loving_ her—this time for the rest of your life."

_Loving her…loving Jenna, _the words echoed in Erik's mind. _For the rest of your life_.

Erik's heart filled with joy at the thought. Could this truly be what he had yearned for all these months—the dream he never hoped could actually come true? Would he actually hear her laugh again? See her smile again? Once again, feel her kiss? Could he truly have Jenna back in his life. In his arms!

"First we have to find her!" Nadir exclaimed, with a smirk, as if reading Erik's thoughts. "But that shouldn't be so hard. She said she was a nurse, right? That she worked in a hospital, right? Well, this" he waved his hand in front of him, gesturing around the room they were in, "looks much like a hospital—many, many years in the future. Maybe…"

Nadir continued talking, but Erik could hear nothing other than the thrum of blood rushing in his eardrums and the pounding of his heart when he saw a fiery mane of hair enter his view. A tall young lady with shoulder length reddish gold curls had just exited a door on the far side of the hall. She stood outside the doorway, her back to Erik's window, talking to a nurse and a young man. Though Erik could not hear what they were saying, the nurse and the man were both smiling. After a few moments, the woman tossed her head back in what appeared to be laughter, and Erik could practically hear bells ringing in his mind. _Jenna_ was right there before him—and he could not believe his luck!

Erik began to stand, to make a move toward the door. He was going to tell Jenna what had happened, and the rest of the world be damned. If they wanted to stare at his mask, let them stare. If they wanted to ask all manner of questions about his out of date attire, or even how he got there, Erik truly did not care. It did not matter. NONE of that mattered if it meant he would be holding Jenna in his arms again.

But then, through the window, he saw the woman turn around, confirming beyond a doubt that it was Jenna. Her lovely face was a welcome sight to behold, but when as his eyes took in the rest of her body, he was stunned at what he saw. A large, round belly protruded outward, making it difficult for her to walk, without waddling. Apparently, however, she would be fine, because the young man with her put an arm around her shoulders. She glanced up at him, smiling briefly as he accompanied her down the hallway.

Erik stared before him in stunned silence, long after they had gone on their way. Nadir too, was speechless at the scene that had transpired before them, until Meg, whom neither had heard approach the window, startled them both out of their reverie. "What is the Vicomte' doing here?" she asked, staring in the direction in which the pair had gone. "And who was that woman?"

**Vicomte'? Meg, did you hit your head in the fall? **

**And now you know the baby is Erik's, but do you think he's going to figure that out? I mean, he's a genius, so he should. . .right? ;)**

**Please review and let me know what you think of the chapter. Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello readers!**

**Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. I enjoy seeing them so much! **

**To my guest reviewer: Guest reviews always sit in moderation until I approve them, and unfortunately, I was sleeping when yours came in, LOL. I approved it right away. If you have an account and log in, your review is posted immediately. **

**And, Phantoms forever, I am so glad you're loving the story! Thank you for the kind words, and while I cannot promise 1-2 minutes between updates, I do promise that I will try to update every day! How's that? :) **

**OK, so this chapter is full of fun. I hope you enjoy!**

**CH 3**

Suddenly, Erik felt as if he couldn't breathe, and his hand went to his throat to loosen his cravat. He almost wished he had been consumed in the flames he could only imagine engulfed the Opera House after they had been sent forward. Why _had_ they been sent forward? Was it the "universe's" cruel idea of a joke? Jenna had obviously moved on. She was in love—the evidence of it had been rather undeniable. She'd looked as if she were due to give birth to her child anytime now. _She didn't wait very long before letting another man bed her, Erik_, that old sinister voice cajoled inside his head. _A _real_ man._ _Must have been desperate to purge herself of your monstrous touch. _

Erik closed his eyes and pressed his lips tightly together at the thought. The man she had been with had been undeniably handsome—and he had looked at her with such adoration in his eyes. At least there was that. He had only wished the very best for her these many months since he had sent her back by lying to her about his affections. He had fervently prayed that she would find love and happiness. He had just not realized how soon she would find it.

It stung to see how quickly she had been able to forget their passion, and shove the ecstasy they had shared out of her mind. She was the only woman he had ever touched—the only woman to whom he had ever made love. He would never forget those all too fleeting moments of bliss when he had been enveloped in Jenna's love and acceptance. And yet, he had just seen her carrying another man's child.

"We have to get out of here," he declared, as he stood to his full height, moving as if to lunge toward the door.

"Wait a minute!" Nadir spat, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him back to the floor, where the four of them were still crouching, out of the window's line of view. "How far do you think you're going to get looking like _that_?"

"Isn't anyone going to answer my question about the Vicomte?" Meg asked, annoyed that she was being ignored.

"Shhh, not now, Meg," Antoinette shushed her daughter, trying to get her to stay out of the men's argument.

"I cannot stay here any longer!" Erik growled, pulling back from Nadir's touch, but walking out of the direct view of the window.

"Well, we cannot go out there dressed the way we are." Nadir countered in a heated whisper. "We would have the entire hospital's attention on us without delay."

"Nadir," Meg began again, tossing her hands in the air. "Monsieur Erik? Doesn't anyone wonder why the Vicomte' is here? Or why _we're_ here, for that matter?"

"_Hush_, Meg!" Antoinette said again, annoyance beginning to enter her tone, as she clutched her daughter's arm.

"Well, what would you suggest we do, Daroga?" Erik seethed, through clenched teeth. "We cannot stay here forever. They are bound to find us sometime."

"I am just saying it would be unwise to just waltz out there without a plan." He snapped at his friend, who was acting rather rashly. "Aren't you the one who clung to darkness your whole life? Think, Erik! Are you really ready to thrust yourself into that brightly lit hallway full of people, without a care in the world?"

"Didn't _anyone_ else notice the Vicomte?" Meg demanded, in a loud voice. "He was _there_! The Vicomte de Chagny! Why isn't anyone listening to me?"

Erik was wrenched out of his argument with the Daroga by the shrillness in Meg's voice. He turned to glare at the diminutive blond dancer with a chilling expression in his eyes. "Silence, Mademoiselle!" he hissed.

Meg hung her head and looked up at him timidly through lowered lashes. "Yes Monsieur Phantom," she said in a cowering tone, as her mother shook her head in disgust at her daughter's brashness. Erik continued to fix his stare at her, burning her with his eyes, and Nadir took advantage of the blessed quiet to begin to look around the room for something that might aid in their escape.

Still keeping low, Nadir crawled to the small chest of drawers on the side of one of the beds. In the top drawer, he found nothing but a Bible, but he smiled when he opened the bottom drawer and discovered a pair of pants and a shirt, much like the ones the men and women out in the hall were wearing, neatly folded at the bottom. He gestured to Annie to check the other set of drawers, and she smiled over at him when she found a similar set of clothing there.

"Well Erik," Nadir exclaimed, in a tone of satisfaction. "We have the makings of a plan!"

"Daroga," Erik responded. "I see only two sets of clothes. In case you have been suddenly rendered unable to do math, there are four of us."

Nadir scowled at Erik. "I said we had _makings_ of a plan. It's not a full plan yet!" He shook his head and rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "I wish the universe had seen fit to send some Cognac with us if it expects me to deal with _him_."

"I heard that, Persian," Erik called.

"You were meant to, Phantom," Nadir answered back, as he looked once again toward the window. Another part of his plan fell beautifully into place. There, along the opposite wall, only a few feet from the room they were in, was a gurney, and next to it, a wheelchair.

Nadir took cover behind the hospital bed farthest away from where the others were crouching, and in a moment, Erik saw his pants tossed on the bed. "Are you _undressing_?" Erik asked him, disdain dripping from his voice.

"Yes," Nadir answered back from behind the bed. "And I don't need any help from you. You, however, Annie," Nadir called to his new wife, humor lacing his voice. "Are more than welcome to come help me if you'd like."

Both Meg and Erik scrunched up their faces at his comment and Antoinette blushed at the implication of what he said. "Nadir, not in front of the child."

"Which one?" he shot back, earning a dark look from Erik.

"I am not a child!" Meg insisted, taking insult at her mother's remark. "I am a grown woman!"

"Yes, dear." Antoinette placated her daughter, patting her hand, which earned her another glower.

Nadir emerged from behind the bed, newly outfitted in the loose fitting clothes he had found in the dresser. He walked over to the door, and motioning for the others to remain silent, he opened it and walked out into the hall, bringing first the wheel chair, and then the gurney inside the room with him. He tossed the other set of scrubs to Meg, whose dress was far more damaged than Antoinette's. "Here, young _woman_," he said, tossing her the other set of clothing. "Go behind the bed and put these on."

Catching the clothes Meg complied.

Dressed as one of this day and age, Nadir moved around the room a bit more freely. He opened the closet doors, and found a pile of folded sheets and blankets, which he assumed were for the beds. Pulling them off the shelf, he spread one sheet out flat on top of the wheel chair. "Your chair, my love," he said, gesturing for Antoinette to take a seat. Once she did, he handed her Ayehsa, and wrapped the ends of the sheet around them. He then covered her, from neck to toe, with a blanket. "When we get into the hallway, try to look sick." Antoinette smiled and coughed a couple of times. Smiling himself, Nadir leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss. "I knew there was a reason I loved you!"

Erik rolled his eyes at the display of affection before him. These two were going to start grating on his nerves with their unending _touching_.

"Alright, Erik," Nadir said, patting the gurney. "Hop on!"

Erik narrowed his eyes at him. "Why do I have to ride on _that_?"

"Well, because, you see, there were only two sets of clothes, and four of us. Do the math."

Erik sneered at having his own words used against him, but got on the gurney as directed. Nadir draped another sheet over him, covering his face as well. When Erik humphed at the indignity, Nadir only reminded him, "You wouldn't want to take the chance that Jenna might see you, would you?"

"What about you?" Erik demanded from under his sheet.

"Shut up. You're dead!" Nadir quipped back, and heard a low growl from Erik beneath the sheet but nothing more.

When Meg emerged from behind the bed, fully dressed in the modern day attire, he instructed her to gently push the wheel chair out of the room, while Nadir pushed the gurney, careful to bump it into the wall a couple times for good measure, smiling at the muffled grunts he heard when he did. And, hiding themselves thusly, in plain sight, they looked for an exit.

Since they appeared to be several floors above street level, they had to take a rather harrowing ride in something called an elevator, which they had observed many of the other modern men and women using freely. Their nerves at being noticed mounted in the few minutes they had to wait for the moving compartment to arrive. Once the doors opened, Nadir accidentally bumped the stretcher on the back wall of the elevator in his haste to get in, thus earning himself some raised eyebrows from the other riders who were already inside the large moving metal box. A look of horror came over one elderly woman's face as she pointed a shaking finger at the sheet that was covering Erik's face.

"Believe me, Madame," Nadir quipped. "It would be even more horrible if the sheet were off." The old lady turned her face, with a whimper of distress, into the chest of a man Nadir presumed to be her son. "Ow!" the Persian winced when Meg stepped hard on his toe to shut him up. He turned away and looked straight ahead, bumping the stretcher clumsily against the wall once again to cover up the sound of the quiet chuckle he heard emanating from beneath the sheet. Still, he felt the eyes of the old woman's son boring angry holes into the back of his head throughout the rest of the ride.

Meg stared at the row of buttons in front of her and figured that they somehow controlled the motion of the elevator. It was going rather slow, and Meg was swiftly running out of patience, not enjoying the feeling of being boxed in with so many strangers. In an effort to make the thing go faster, she pressed every button she could find, each one glowing amber as she did. This simply earned her a groan from the other passengers. She soon discovered why, as the doors now proceeded to open at every floor, whether someone wanted to get on or not.

When the doors opened and finally revealed the exit to the outside, Nadir and Meg pushed their cargo out of the elevator, much to the delight of the other occupants who were apparently continuing on their ride. "Hey, man," one particularly obnoxious man shouted after him. "Don't let the door hit ya on your way out!"

"Oh, well," Nadir said, turning back and waving, "Many thanks for the advice!"

"Freaks!" they heard the man exclaim in response.

"Do you wish to die, Monsieur?" Erik growled, suddenly shooting up indignantly. Blessedly, the sheet did not come off to reveal his masked features, and Nadir quickly shoved Erik back down into a prone position. As the elevator doors snapped to a close, Meg looked up just in time to see the old woman faint to the floor.

"Are you mad?" Nadir hissed angrily, as he quickly pushed the stretcher towards the exit sign that hung over a set of glass doors. "Next time I am using the restraints."

"Next time, Persian?" Erik snapped back from beneath the sheet. "I assure you that there will be no next time!"

"With you, there is _always_ a next time!" he seethed back.

Red and blue lights swirled outside the glass exterior doors, and Nadir and Meg witnessed several members of the medical staff running out to a big white wagon, tending to a patient who was lying on a gurney much like Erik was—only this patient seemed to be seriously wounded. They could see large stains of red spreading on the white coverings that had been draped over him. Everyone's attention seemed to be focused on the man on the stretcher and Nadir used the momentary distraction as an opportunity to get them out of the hospital undetected.

"Come on, let's go, let's go!" he said to Erik and Antoinette, flinging the sheet off Erik's gurney while Meg helped Antoinette, who was still holding fast to Ayesha, out of the chair. They snuck past the chaos on the street as inconspicuously as they could, Erik only pausing briefly when he heard two of the medical staff discussing the patient's "catastrophic car accident," which left the young man with life threatening injuries. "We don't expect him to make it, doc," the man behind the stretcher said, and Erik's blood ran cold. He realized that if things had gone differently for Jenna when she had her own accident months ago, this might have been her fate. Instead, she was alive, home again—in another man's arms, but _safe_.

Erik felt Nadir pulling on his arm, and, finally turning away from the scene in front of the hospital, he followed the Persian into the night. Despite the ache he felt in his heart for losing Jenna, at least she was alive. At that moment, Erik knew that sacrificing his own happiness had been worth it. It had all been worth it, if it meant that Jenna had lived.

* * *

"Here, give those to me," Chris said, taking the stack of freshly folded receiving blankets from Jenna, and squatting to place them in the bottom dresser drawer.

"I'm not an invalid, you know," Jenna teased with a heavy sigh.

"I know, Jenna," he countered, looking up at her with a smile. "But you must admit that the little guy kind of gets in the way of you bending over. Besides, I don't mind helping."

"You're so good to me," she said, returning his smile with one of her own. She stood there, smiling into his sky blue eyes a quiet moment until they heard the intercom buzz. "Pizza's here!" Jenna exclaimed.

"I'll get it," Chris said, starting to rise to a standing position.

"Oh no you don't," Jenna put her hand out to stop him. "Paying for the pizza is not strenuous in any way—and I am not going to have you buying me dinner on top of everything else you've been doing for me! I'll get the pizza and meet you in the living room." Jenna walked out of the nursery to get the door.

Chris sighed as he watched her go. "Buying you dinner is the least I would like to do for you Jenna," he whispered once she was out of sight. Taking a deep breath and swiping his hand down his face to try and clear his mind, Chris stood and made his way to the living room, where Jenna had already placed the pizza on the coffee table. She handed him a beer, grabbing herself a bottle of water, and they settled in on the couch to enjoy their customary Friday night dinner and movie.

"You know, I can't believe Red's not out here," Chris said, mouth full of pepperoni, "demanding a piece of pizza and control of the remote."

Jenna rolled her eyes. "Maybe we bore him."

"I don't know how you could ever bore anybody, Jenna," Chris responded, taking a swig from his beer.

"Oh yeah," she snorted. "I'm very entertaining, what—with the way I waddle everywhere I go, and have to go to the bathroom every half hour. I can't even bend over to put the laundry away. I'm riveting company, to be sure."

"Jenna," Chris admonished, "Don't be so hard on yourself. You're pregnant."

"I'm a house!" she laughed in self-deprecation.

"You're beautiful," Chris cut off her laughter by looking directly into her eyes. "It's true, Jenna," he said, reaching out and running his knuckles down her cheek. "Even pregnant, you are still the most dazzling woman I have ever known. You _glow_, Jenna."

Jenna was frozen as Chris closed his eyes and cupped her chin to draw her closer, molding his lips against hers. There was sweetness in his kiss, and so much affection and tenderness, and Jenna tried for a moment, to move her own lips in time with his, and truly kiss him back. She willed her breathing to quicken, her heart to beat faster—but she soon found that it was useless to expect cooperation from a part of her body that now resided a world away. After a few moments had passed, Jenna broke their embrace.

"Chris…" she sighed, not able to look at him.

"Jenna, I'm sorry," Chris blurted, jumping back a little bit in horror at what he'd done. "I didn't mean…I mean, I _meant_ it, but I shouldn't have …," he ran a hand through his blond locks, and let out a deep breath of frustration and embarrassment.

"No, Chris," Jenna, put a hand on his arm, trying to get him to look at her. "You have _nothing_ to apologize for. If anything, _I'm_ the one who should apologize to _you_."

Chris shook his head, still not looking at her. "Of course you don't have to apologize, Jenna…"

"Yes, Chris," she said, her tone imploring him to look at her, "I do." When she finally saw his striking blue eyes look directly into hers, she took his hand and continued. "Chris, when I woke from the coma, I was such a mess. Everything, _everything_ in my world had changed. Completely. I didn't know what was real or not real. And then, when I found out I was pregnant," she took a deep breath. "If I didn't have you, I don't know what I would have done. Chris," she said, looking into his eyes and squeezing his hand tightly. "You are my _rock. _ You're always there to listen, to help. You are always there for me to lean on, and I'm afraid that sometimes I lean too hard."

"No, Jenna," he shook his head at the suggestion. "I want to be here for you. I want to help."

"I know you do, Chris," she looked down, while still holding his hand. "And I value you so much. But I'm afraid, that sometimes I take from you more than I can give."

"No, Jenna," he laughed a little, awkwardly. "I don't _want_ anything in return . . ."

"You want my love," she said to him, plainly. When Chris only looked back at her with sad eyes, she continued, "And I _want_ to love you. But Chris," she closed her own eyes a second before looking at him again and continuing, "I'm broken."

Chris felt anger boil up in his heart at Jake, the imbecilic ex-boyfriend who devastated Jenna so badly that she drove her car into the Hudson River. He never even bothered to visit her when she was in a coma—his new love interest monopolizing too much of his time. When Jake had moved to Paris, Chris was thrilled that he was too far away to ever hurt Jenna again. Little did he know the pain would continue.

"He was a fool!" Chris spat, his anger finally reaching a tipping point and spilling out of his mouth in the harshest of tones.

"I loved him, Chris," Jenna spoke of Erik, knowing Chris could never understand who really owned her heart. "I love him still."

"But what he did to you!" He seethed.

"He couldn't help being in love with someone else," she said, looking at him pointedly. "Chris, _no one_ can tell their heart who to love. God knows I've tried."

Chris's jaw clenched, and Jenna thought she saw a tear of frustration glisten in his eyes. "Just as I've tried to make mine _stop _loving," he snapped.

"I've tried that too," she whispered, finding herself near tears. _Why_ couldn't she stop loving Erik? Why did he have this hold on her heart? He was a world away, and in love with another woman, and yet, even now, she could not be happy with this perfectly wonderful man who loved _her_—who _wanted_ her, and only her.

When Chris noticed the tears in Jenna's eyes, his demeanor immediately softened. "Hey," he whispered, tenderly, reaching out to brush away a tear that had fallen down her cheek. "Don't cry.

Of course, his order for her not to cry only made the tears come faster. "I'm sorry, Chris," She sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

"Jenna," he murmured, taking her into his arms, and stroking her hair soothingly. "Stress is not good for the baby."

Jenna chuckled darkly. "There you go again—taking care of me, when I've given you no reason to."

"I have my reasons, Jenna," he whispered.

Jenna remained in his embrace, neither she nor Chris saying anything, for a few moments. She concentrated on the gentle way he stroked her hair and rubbed her back, allowing her emotions fall back into place. "Chris," she said, finally pulling back, and looking him resolutely in the eye. "If this is all too much for you, I understand if you need your distance. You can walk out that door right now, and I will never think less of you for it. I promise, I would understand."

Chris sighed and put a finger to her lips to silence her. "Oh, there you go again, talking nonsense. I swear, I could have a more sensible conversation with Red." Jenna giggled a bit at Chris's attempt to lighten the mood. After giving her a sweet smile, he continued. "I am never going to 'walk out that door,' Jenna. I will always be here for you and the baby. I know you're not in love with me, but as much as I wish things were different, I am not about to walk out of your life like the little guy's father. I value your friendship too much."

Jenna sniffed and nodded, and said, "Just promise me you won't hold back. Promise me that you will find somebody that you can truly love—someone who can love you in return. You deserve someone so special, Chris."

Chris rolled his eyes and smiled, feeling that there would never be anyone as special in his life as Jenna. "I promise if someone _so special_ catches my eye, I will ask her out on a date, ok?"

"I am going to hold you to that, Doctor!" she promised, pointing her finger at his chest. "I'm even going to keep my eyes open for candidates."

Chris groaned, "Oh no! Matchmaking by a hormonal pregnant woman. Who knows what I'm going to end up with?"

Jenna gave him a good-natured punch in the arm, and once again settled into the light banter that was customary between them. "Better than anyone you could pick out for yourself."

"Oh yeah," Chris agreed facetiously, reaching for another slice of pizza. "I bet she's going to be named Sapphire, or Amber or, hey, maybe even Fuchia."

"Chris!" she squealed, laughing now at the running joke.

"Speaking of which," he smiled at her and tapped her nose with his finger. "I really think it's time to start discussing baby names. How about Tom. Or Fred? No, not Fred. You know, I still like Chris as a name for the baby… "

Jenna buried her head in her hands and groaned, "Oh no…" as Chris' list of possibilities droned on.

**Oh, Chris. My dear, Chris, you are breaking my heart. Poor thing-so crazy about Jenna. But her heart is spoken for. And little does she know, Erik is back to claim his prize! Only he thinks his prize belongs to Chris. Sigh. . .**

**And how did you like the Parisians' escape from the hospital. Ahhh Nadir! Such a clever guy.**

**Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! There will be another tomorrow! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**It is so, so good to see so many of my previous readers on board for this story! It's been such fun for me to read all your comments and respond! Please keep it coming!**

**Well, the Parisians certainly had a "great escape" from the hospital, but hows about we see how they feel about NY!**

**CH 4**

The four Parisians wandered aimlessly, taking in the peculiar yet remarkable sights and sounds surrounding them. Buildings ascended high into the darkened sky, and were aglow with pictures that moved and changed before their eyes. The corners were littered with carts hawking strange gadgets and brightly colored bits of clothing and jewelry. Savory aromas of meats and breads wafted around them, teasing their noses with the promise of succulence, but then the rancid odors of filth and bodily fluids mingled in, dousing any appetite that had begun to develop. Every so often, from the streets below their feet, large puffs of smoke billowed up from metal grates, accompanied by low hisses and growls, conjuring images of dragons greedily lurking about in their lairs.

In the streets, moving vehicles of so many varied types zinged and darted in many different directions. _These must be cars,_ Erik thought, recalling the word Jenna taught him as he stared at the large, self propelled metal wagons that crowded the road. The lack of any obvious type of organization to the way the vehicles moved made it easy for him to imagine how Jenna had had her accident. The thought of her being trapped inside one of these motorized beasts as she plummeted into a river made Erik's stomach clench with dread. _She's safe_, his inner voice reminded him. _With her new love, _it added, reshaping relief into agony.

Nadir and Antoinette led the way, Antoinette still cradling Ayesha, who seemed to be calmed by the woman's quiet strength. She wished, however, that she could calm her own nerves half as well as she was soothing the cat. "What are we going to do, Nadir?" she asked her husband, looking straight ahead.

"We are going to be fine, my love," he assured her, rubbing his hand across her back. "We'll find a place to stay until we can sort out this mess."

Antoinette turned her face toward his. "How, pray tell, are we going to find a place to stay? How are we going to sort out anything? We don't know the customs of this place…this _time_… We don't know where to look for shelter. We don't even have any money!"

Nadir was stricken by the trepidation in his wife's worried eyes for a moment, wishing he could find a way to comfort her. Looking beyond her and trying to formulate some type of reassuring response, he suddenly noticed a creature unlike any he had seen before.

Large, furry, and _blue,_ it stood upright, as a man, and patiently tolerated person after person taking turns standing next to it, while other people in the crowd held up small, rectangular objects toward them and flashed a light in their direction. After the light flashed, the person standing next to the creature would turn toward it and say a few words, then move on to another man, standing nearby, and hand him what looked like some form of currency. It seemed a strange interaction, to Nadir, and yet, glancing even further into the square, he saw a similar creature, this time red, with a similar man, apparently engaged in the same practice. Nadir began to notice that all around them, there were strange figures to be seen. Many were fantastical, like the giant yellow bird or the white cat wearing a pink dress. But some were simply people dressed up in some rather outlandish outfits, such as the man in the skintight blue suit with the red cape and underwear, or the woman wearing a red white and blue bathing suit with knee high boots. All of them, however, stood patiently by, while strangers with these small rectangular devices flashed their lights and handed them money.

"Look!" Nadir heard, as a pair of women began to make their way toward them, one of them pointing a finger in Erik's direction. "There's a guy dressed as the Phantom of the Opera! Forget Zorro and Dracula – I want a picture with HIM."

"Oh, I wonder how much he charges for a photo?" her companion gushed.

Nadir looked once again at Antoinette, taking her by the forearms, and exclaimed with a twinkle in his eye, "Annie, I have a plan!"

Meg started their journey following closely behind her mother and step father, trying to give the newly married couple a little space to be alone together, but not wanting to get separated from them in the sea of people that churned all around them. Glancing briefly over her shoulder, however, she noticed Erik, who was keeping his head down and clinging warily to the shadows as much as possible. Gone was the menacing look he had given her in the hospital room. Faded were all vestiges of the Phantom. Erik was only a man, just as lost as they were. And yet, somehow, he did not seem quite so confused.

Falling back a few paces to keep step with the figure, who had, for so long, been shrouded in mystery, Meg asked, "Where are we?"

"I believe," Erik began in a hushed tone, giving her a sidelong glance, "That we have landed on the Island of Manhattan—in New York."

"New York?" she repeated in a loud whisper, looking up and all around her. "But isn't that in…"

"America." Erik supplied, nodding with a pointed look in his eyes.

Meg shook her head and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "How can you say this? Do you think me mad? You actually expect me to believe that not only have we traveled forward in time, but also clear across an ocean. How? Simply by being caught in an explosion? And what about the Vicomte'—didn't you see him? He was at the hospital. What was _he_ doing there?"

Erik looked at the Giry girl, whom he had always thought of as smart and brave and not given to the same drama as most of the other ballerinas. But the look on her face now was full of turmoil, and taking pity on her, he began to explain. "I did not know the Vicomte', so I cannot tell you why, as you say, he is here. But as I said at the hospital…Meg," taking a deep breath, he continued. "This has happened once before…"

"IT'S HIM! IT'S HIM!" he heard the bellow from behind, and before he had any idea what was happening, an arm was flung around his shoulder and bright flashes of light were obscuring his vision. Somebody was shoving him toward a disorderly crowd of people and he was being turned roughly in the opposite direction—more hands grabbing at his arms, his shoulders, more shrieking voices, and more flashes before his eyes. Panicked and partially blinded by the incessant glare, Erik did something he hadn't done since that fateful day when Buquet had attacked Jenna in the cellars. He reached into his cloak and pulled out his Punjab Lasso.

Just then, he was able to detect a familiar voice call out, "It's extra if you want a picture with the lasso," and he turned to see the Persian and Antoinette standing next to him—the Daroga collecting light grayish green papers that were being shoved at him, and the former Ballet Mistress instructing people to form a line.

"Daroga, what…" Erik began to demand an explanation but Nadir leaned close to him and cut him off.

"Just go with it, Erik," he whispered.

"Go with what, Persian?" Erik growled back as another light flashed in his face.

"Look around you, Erik," Nadir whispered, smiling at the woman who was approaching Erik, handing Nadir another of those small pieces of paper. "These people are handing us money, Erik. _Money_ we are going to need if we wish to find lodging. All they want to do is stand next to you for a moment and take a photograph, Allah only knows why. So, _let_ them!" Erik saw the pleading that was in the Persian's eyes. He glanced at the crowd of women that had been corralled into a less than orderly line in front of him. His eyes moved beyond to the rest of the public square upon which they seemed to have stumbled. It was then that he noticed the slew of strange characters dressed in odd costumes spread out around the sidewalks. There were furry monsters of primary colors with smiles permanently stitched on their fabric faces. There was a man dressed all in black, much like himself, waving around a glowing stick of some sort, and a woman dressed in long green robes wearing a crown, carrying books in one arm and a torch in the other. Indeed, groups of people—many with young children—milled about them in much the same way that the women were crowding about Erik. They did seem to be paying money for the privilege of standing next to each character, and…taking _pictures_, as Nadir said.

"How on earth do those tiny little things take photographs?" Meg asked, suspiciously eyeing the little contraptions the crowds were holding up. "And why would anyone want a photograph with him? How do they even know him?"

"Here," commanded Antoinette, shoving Ayesha into Meg's surprised arms. "Take the cat." Antoinette went back to corralling the crowd into a line, which was proving no easy task.

"But mother…" Meg persisted.

"Hush, Meg!" Her mother spat, reaching into the folds of her skirts to where her walking cane was attached. "You ask too many questions!" No longer having the encumbrance of Ayesha in her arms, Antoinette was able to make much more efficient work of forming the line, thrashing her cane upon the ground if ever a bit of extra encouragement was needed. Before long, the horde of boisterous fans was queued up like a corps of tittering ballerinas waiting for their turn on stage.

Erik was appalled. For some reason the women in the line wanted to stand beside him, flash their gadgets in his direction, and even _touch_ him. And they were willing to pay his Persian friend money for the privilege. Erik begrudgingly acknowledged that they truly DID need the money, but still, could he possibly find it within himself to tolerate this bit of theater, this game of artifice, and allow these women to get close to him and take his picture? He hated crowds, and he deplored being touched. _Except for when Jenna touched you,_ that insidious inner demon reminded him. _Oh, you loved that . . _.

Erik squeezed his eyes shut tightly to silence the unhelpful voice. What good did it do to remember her touches when he would never feel them again? Erik squared his shoulders and stood straight and tall. They were in dire need of funds to better their circumstance, so he would submit to this charade, regardless of how his whole body screamed for him to run. "Very well, Daroga," he seethed through clenched teeth, steeling himself for the first customers. "But you'd better keep this crowd under control," he shot him a pointed glare. "My fingers are itchy."

Rolling his eyes, Nadir gestured to the crowd and two teenage girls with long ponytails approached Erik giggling. One stood on either side of him and they faced a third friend who held up the strange rectangular device which Erik knew would flash light at him in an effort to supposedly capture his image. He looked at the device and did his best to offer a debonair smile. The two girls screamed just as the light flashed in Erik's eyes, and his smile crumbled to a grimace of surprise. They scurried off to join their friend, giggling all the way, and shrieking, "He's there. The Phantom of the Opera!" Erik watched them go, scowling the whole time.

The next woman, dressed in a bright blue, skin-tight _tube_ of a dress, which showed off more of her legs than Erik was accustomed to seeing, sauntered up before he was able to fully regain his composure. Giving him a wink, she said, "Punjab me, big boy."

Erik stared at her, aghast. "I beg your pardon?" he asked in disbelief.

"I paid extra," she insisted, becoming somewhat indignant. "I want the lasso around my throat!"

Erik glanced over, in horror, at Nadir. Never before had anyone volunteered to have his noose encircle her neck. But when the Persian merely shrugged his shoulders and nodded, Erik reached back into his cloak and retrieved the lasso, delicately placing it around the woman's throat. She raised two thumbs in the air as her friend flashed her device, then, turned once again toward Erik, slowly, almost seductively, removing the circle of rope from around her neck. "With a sexy scowl like that on your face," she said, eyebrows raised, "you're even hotter than the guy working the crowd down at the Majestic." She sashayed away with another wink, after slipping him a strip of paper with some type of number scrawled on it.

Erik stared confounded at the slip of paper before hastily shoving it into his pocket. He shook his head and tried to clear his mind for the next in a long line of customers. She was an older woman—probably Antionette's age—with graying hair, accompanied by a young girl—perhaps her granddaughter. She smiled kindly at him when they took their positions, and all three—Erik, the older woman, and the granddaughter—looked at the device with grins on their faces. It was only a second later that Erik jumped, exclaiming, "Madame, I would greatly appreciate it if you would remove your hand from my posterior."

FLASH!

And so it went. Erik posed with customer after customer. Most were polite, but many were odd, and dressed downright scandalously by the standards of Erik's day. They all paid, however, and the Daroga was absolutely right about them needing money, for the night was growing shorter, and soon they would require some type of shelter.

When they at last had made it through the long line of women, Nadir had a large wad of bills. Satisfied, he began to stash it in his pocket, before Erik stopped him. "Pardon me, but what do you think you're doing?"  
"I am putting our money away, Erik." Nadir answered.

"Why do _you_ get to hold it?" Erik asked, annoyance in his tone. "I had to stand next to all those derelicts and let them flash their devices at me, not to mention their cleavage," he added under his breath.

"I had to turn that unruly crowd into an orderly line."

"Yes, but. . ."

"Silence!" They were stopped short in their bickering by the sound of a cane cracking on pavement. Antoinette quickly grabbed the roll of cash out of her husband's hand and stuffed it into her cleavage, as if daring either one of them to try to grab it now. She looked at them both. "Would you two gentlemen kindly dispense with your arguing and get a move on so we might find a place to stay for the night? My daughter is tired, and this cat," she said, gesturing to Ayesha who was currently wriggling around in Meg's arms, "Is beginning to get a little too squirmy for my liking."

"Point taken, Madame," Erik replied, sending one last glare toward Nadir. Antoinette huffed and turned to walk away, once again, in the direction they had been going before they stopped for the photographs. Meg kept pace with her mother this time, leaving the men to follow forlornly behind.

"This was to be my wedding night," Nadir sighed, as he noted the tension in his wife's stride.

"Welcome to your happily ever after," Erik quipped sarcastically, as they made their way into the night.

* * *

It did not take them long to discover that the pictures for which Erik posed were not going to go a long way in paying for lodging in New York. The manager at the small, dark hotel that they had entered finished counting out their money and shoved it back at them. "That's enough for _one_ room, one night."

"_One_ room?" Nadir asked, aghast, looking in frustration over at Antoinette.

"But you took so many pictures!" Meg practically whined, looking over at Erik.

"This is New York, people!" The large, not particularly clean man snapped back at them. "Things come at a price."

"Are the roaches included for free?" Erik asked acerbically with a raised eyebrow, as he noticed a couple of the small brown vermin scurry across the floor. When one boldly came too close to his boot, he squished it loudly, his eyes never leaving the manager's. Meg gasped and hid her face in her mother's shoulder. The man only looked at him, a sneer of annoyance coloring his face.

"Monsieur," Antoinette began firmly, "You obviously have a problem with cleanliness. And, at the moment, we are experiencing a lack of funds. Might I propose a mutually beneficial solution?"

The manager laughed out loud at her words. "'Monsieur?'" he repeated back to her. "I don't know where you come from, Lady, but around here, people just call me Larry."

"It is _Madame_, Larry," she corrected him, her tone dripping with a disdain that made Erik smirk. "My proposal is that my…family…and I stay and assist in the upkeep of this," she looked around her at the dark, dingy lobby, "fine establishment. I can clean and ensure you that the non-paying guests," she gestured in the direction of the roaches, "are evicted post haste. My husband and our companion," she nodded to Erik, "are good with their hands, and could easily perform basic maintenance tasks. My daughter could help me clean, and even cook, if the need should arise. In return, you would provide us with lodging, and funds enough to eat."

The proprietor looked at the four of them, as if considering. "We are a small establishment, _Madam_," he answered her, using the bastardized version of her title. "What makes you think we are in _need_ of such help?"

"Perhaps, Larry," Antoinette continued, "With our help, your establishment will no longer be so small."

Larry considered her words a little longer, and said, "Fine—one room for the four of you—on a _trial_ basis. I'll give you two nights, and if don't see any proof that you're worth my charity, you're back on the streets, ya hear? I'll send up a cot, if your daughter and this one," he waved a hand at Erik, "aren't sleeping together. But," he added, pointing a finger at Antoinette, "you pay me for tonight's stay, since you haven't cleaned anything yet.

"What about money for food, sir?" Meg asked, knowing full well that the meagre bag of provisions they had acquired at the small marketplace they had passed on the way to the hotel wouldn't last very long.

The porcine man grunted in jaded amusement. "That's your problem! Prove your worth around here, and we can talk about a small stipend that should cover food—maybe. And you can keep the tips you get for cleaning the rooms but don't expect much. Oh, and we are doing ALL of this off the books. Capice?"

Meg looked at the man with narrowed eyes. "Off the books?" she asked.

The man looked over at Meg, and his eyes darkened with interest. "That's right, sugar." He drawled in a saccharine tone. "Off the books. Under the table." His mouth turned up a bit in a sickly fashion, and Erik felt a chill as he was reminded briefly of Joseph Buquet. "With you, I'd also be open to on the floor, or up against the wall."

"That is enough, sir!" Erik spat, stepping closer to the desk, to put himself between Meg and the charlatan behind the counter. Just like that, the Phantom was back, commanding and deadly in his ire. "We shall help you to rebuild your flea ridden hotel in return for food and lodging and nothing else. The girl is off limits. It would _behoove_ you to remember that."

The manager shrank back at the intensity of Erik's gaze. Fumbling beneath the desk for a moment, he handed Erik a key with shaking hand. "H-h-here," he said. "Your room is on the third floor. Number 305. Stairs to the L-l-left."

"Thank you." Erik hissed, fixing the manager with his lethal stare several moments longer, as Nadir and his family made their way to the stairs. When they were safely out of view, Erik reiterated, "See to it that you remember." And he turned and walked gracefully toward the stairs.

* * *

"Mreow!" she heard as she turned over in bed for the—well, she had lost count of how many times she had tossed and turned in bed. Chris had gone home shortly after the movie, since he was on rotation the next day, and she had planned to go straight to sleep. But though she'd been lying in bed for over an hour, the sleep just wouldn't come. And now she was annoying her cat.

"I know," she said, petting his little head as he scampered back and forth beside her. "You were sleeping. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Mreh!" was his only response, as he bopped his head against hers.

She let out a little giggle at Red's outspoken nature, and then a heavy groan. She was starting to feel like the walls were closing in on her and she knew she needed to get some air. Shoving her covers off, she rose and got out of bed. "I'm sorry, Red." She patted his head once more, apologetically. "I'm never going to sleep at this rate." Tossing on a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt, she walked toward her apartment door.

It was true that the City of New York never slept. Lights flashed and revelers mingled deep into the night. Jenna generally enjoyed the spectacle and energy of the city, but tonight she needed quiet. As she walked and walked, the crowd finally began to dissipate until only a few other sleepless souls crossed her path. Soon, the path before her ended, and she was surprised to see the destination that lie ahead—the waterfront.

She stood on the pier and gazed out at the river, as it surged and rolled, ebbed and flowed—the duality of the water's nature washing over her. Water both cleansed and soiled. It both gave life and snatched it away. It sent forth and it brought home. And now, the water that had always before been a calming influence, pierced her soul with the sharp arrow of longing.

This very water had once consumed her, swallowing her whole. Instead of destroying her, however, it had brought her to new life. The waves had miraculously carried her to the clandestine beauty of the Paris Opera House, which was haunted by both ghosts and angels. Now that the water had returned her home, she found that she was haunted too—by a man she could never forget.

Oh, she tried to convince herself it had all been a dream. It was folly to believe otherwise. She had been in a coma for a month. Lucid dreaming was a well-documented way that coma victims coped with the inability to communicate with the outside world while still being very much alive inside their minds. There were countless cases of it, and they pointed to the brain's remarkable defense mechanisms—its own desire to live.

But try as she might, she could never quite convince herself that Erik wasn't real. His presence was always so strong in her mind, in her heart. It was as if a part of him was always with her—as if his heart had lodged itself inside her soul. She knew, of course, that that was ridiculous. He couldn't be real. _None_ of it could.

But then she had found out about the baby. And while everyone at the hospital assumed that the baby was Jake's she knew that could not be the case, since they had not been intimate for quite some time before the break-up. No, finding out about the baby had forced her to finally accept the impossible truth that Erik _was_ real. He was the last man she had made love to—and if she were honest with herself, the only man with whom the word love had truly applied. But realizing that he was real only deepened her heartache—because he was also in love with another woman.

How she wished that were not true, and that when she had found the courage to tell him she loved him, he had said it back, using her name instead of Christine's. They most likely would have missed the gala night they had been planning to attend, pursuing the evening's pleasures in each other's arms instead. Would they have already spoken their vows, when, weeks later, Jenna would have announced to Erik that she was pregnant? She could almost imagine the look on his face as he pressed his hand to her stomach and met her eyes in joy and disbelief. "A baby, Jenna?" He would ask, his eyes brimming with tears. "_My_ baby?"

"_Our_ baby," she would nod, tears filling her own eyes as she smiled from ear to ear. "I was there too, you know, when we made him."

"Mademoiselle, I assure you," he would answer, with eyebrow raised. "That is something I could _never_ forget!" And he would throw his arms around her and swing her off the ground, the two of them laughing and crying in pure glee. "I love you, Jenna!" he would proclaim joyfully. "With my whole heart, I love you. I love you. I love you."

She took in a deep breath, and tried to hold back the emotions in her heart as her mind heard the words that he would never say. But the pain was too great and it came flooding out of her on a strangled sob. "Erik," she whispered, bending over the pier's guardrail, as the tears flowed freely from her eyes. "I love you. I love you. I love you," she moaned in reply.

* * *

From the shadows, Erik watched as Jenna cried. He had not been able to find rest in the shabby hotel room he now shared with the Persian's family. From the too-hot temperature to the lights that wouldn't turn on, the room had been a disgrace. And then, of course, there had been the sickening looks of longing that the Persian and Antoinette were shooting at one another, and the incessant questions that Meg was asking about…everything. Blessedly, her inquisition had finally been silenced when she discovered a "magic spout" mounted in the washroom's bathtub. After she turned some knobs and faucets, she realized that the spout sprayed out hot water, and that she could stand underneath it, and get clean.

Erik had reclined on his cot, the thrum of the water from Meg's vertical bath pounding in his ears, the tension from the bed where Nadir and Antoinette lay almost a palpable thing. He'd felt as if he were suffocating, with the heat, and the strain, and the humidity simultaneously clawing at his senses, and, paired with his own inner turmoil, he knew he could not stay there any longer. Exiting the room, and adjusting the crooked number 5 on the door as he did so, he sought out the dark comforts of the night that had sheltered his soul for so long. It had taken him quite a while to find some true darkness in this city full of harsh, unfeeling beacons that infringed upon the night, and when he had finally found some semblance of solitude, he discovered that he was not alone.

At first, he felt his anger build inside of him. The hour was late. What was Jenna doing out alone? Even in Paris, this was not the time of night for a woman to be wandering about alone. It was unsafe with criminals and lechers on every corner—and given the colorful characters he had already observed in this city, he was sure things had not changed all that much. Did that fool who had impregnated her not realize the treasure he had? How could he not be with her, protecting her from the monsters that lay wait in the dark?

But then, Erik realized she was crying. And his ire melted away. His Jenna was tough. She was strong. What could cause such tears? Did she fear for her unborn child? Had there been a fight with the father?

He dared not get too close to her for fear that she would see him, and so he was not able to discern the source of her sorrow. But what did reasons matter? His love—his very heart—was sobbing into the river. He yearned to go to her, to reach out and stroke her hair—to embrace her, and assure her everything would be all right. His arm already extending outward, his feet had taken several small steps, before he forced himself to stop. She was carrying a child. She had cleaved herself to another man. There was nothing he could do to change that. And considering the monster that he was, he knew he shouldn't even try.

He recalled, briefly, the night he first laid eyes upon Christine—a weeping angel, whom he'd yearned to embrace. Yet even then, he knew that there was no way that a demon could comfort an angel. How much less could a man comfort the woman he had lied to—the woman whose heart he had shattered? Somebody else had already picked up her pieces and put them back together. Who was he to interfere? His reappearance in her life would surely do more harm than good.

So Erik did not go to her. He crouched in the shadows and watched her cry, aching with each of her sobs, shuddering with every harsh intake of her breath. When she had finally spent all her tears and began to depart, Erik followed her, careful to stay to the shadows, but always ready to step in were she to come to any harm. He stayed with her the entire way, until she stopped in front of a tall building and reached into her pocket to pull out a key. And then, as she stepped across the threshold and away from him, Erik continued to watch, as his love, his very heart, quietly shut the door. "Goodnight, my dear, sweet Jenna" he whispered, as he continued to gaze as the door the closed her off from him. "Sleep well, my love."

**OK, so I'd like to give a special shout out to PhantomAngel147, who guessed that people were going to think Erik was a cosplayer! Good call, PhantomsAngel147! I don't think Times Square will ever be the same again! ha ha ha!**

**Well, the Parisians have found a home, and Erik is once again, wandering in the night. And you know, Erik, you're right! The baby's father IS acting like a fool! But what you don't know is. . . well, you'll figure it out in time. **

**Please let me know what you think! I treasure your reviews! **


	6. Chapter 6

**First of all, thank you to all my reviewers yesterday. I am so sorry I have not gotten back to you. The fan fiction site seemed to have been broken as far as reviews go. I promise to respond to each one of you individually as soon as I am able.**

**Now, shall we see how our Parisian friends are coping? I think we should.**

CH 5

"Eeek!" Meg yelped as she opened the door and saw another of the small brown vermin skitter across the floor.

"Good Lord, girl," her mother responded, rolling her eyes, and pushing into the room before her. "When are you going to stop being so surprised by them?"

"They're everywhere." Meg protested, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, in an effort to rid herself of the sensation that her skin was crawling. "This place is disgusting!"

"This _place_ is a roof over our heads," Antoinette snapped, slamming the bucket she was carrying onto the ground, so that a little soapy water splashed out. "It is our job to make it _less_ disgusting so that we can _continue_ to have this roof over our heads, so stop complaining and start scrubbing."

Meg pursed her lips together in annoyance at her mother's tone and knelt on the floor, using a sponge to soak up the spilled liquid. It had been a week. A week of mopping and scrubbing and sucking up dirt with a noisy, modern machine referred to as a vacuum and still, there were roaches crawling out of the walls and rodent droppings in the corners. Meg didn't even want to consider the state of the stained sheets that she and her mother had taken to changing daily—or the sounds at night that pierced through the thin walls, revealing where those stains had originated. Their existence since they had somehow been thrust into the 21st Century was one that surrounded them with filth and perversion, and it made Meg wish she had never been rescued from the opera house.

Ahhh, the opera house—her home for so long, which was now surely mere rubble on the ground. It had been bursting with opulence and extravagance. There, she had been a part of grace and beauty—not merely a washwoman in a vermin-infested hellhole. Even though she had been only a lowly ballet girl, she had performed with the most exquisite, shining stars of her day. None had shone so brightly as the beautiful, young Christine Da'ae, who'd begun at the Garnier as a seamstress, but soon became the lead soprano, with a voice that could compete with the angels. In fact, to hear her tell it, it had been a celestial being that had taught her how to sing—an angel with whom Christine had, at one point, thought she had fallen in love. The whole affair had made Meg believe in miracles, for if Christine could be loved by a heavenly creature, surely there was hope that she herself could catch the handsome young Vicomte's eye.

But no. The night of the gala ball those dreams came crashing down to earth. The angel revealed himself to be a sad, lonely, horribly disfigured man, and the Vicomte laid eyes on the soprano. In a manner of a few short months, Christine and her Raoul married and moved away from the Garnier, while her mother had become engaged to the reclusive _angel's_ best friend. And now, here they were, a week after her mother's wedding, somehow thrust almost a century and a half forward in time—scrubbing floors and cleaning commodes. All that she had known of her old life was gone. Everything had changed—except, of course, for the downcast expression on Erik's face when he thought no one was looking.

Meg wondered sometimes if he was thinking of Christine—especially when he went on his solitary walks after dark—but Erik had seemed genuinely happy for her when she'd wed the Vicomte. From the quiet whisperings between him and her stepfather when they would return from their days of trying desperately to improve upon the disgraceful appearance of the hotel, she gleaned that there was something else. Something about a girl—a girl from THIS time—was bothering him, but Meg could not make out exactly why. And honestly, right now, as she once again dipped her fingers into the bucket to fill her sponge with soapy water, she really didn't care. All she wanted to do was get away from the squalor.

"Mother," Meg said, as they were closing the door on their last room for the day, "I have to get out of here."

Annie replaced the keys in her pocket and gave her daughter a strange look. "Whatever are you talking about, Meg Giry?"

"I need to get OUT," she replied in exasperation. "I need to see something other than these grimy walls and filthy floors."

"It is not safe, Meg!" her mother snapped.

"I am not a child, Mother!" Meg insisted. "There has to be something more to this time than drudgery. I am not a cleaning woman, Mother. . ."

"The cleaning offers us a place to sleep and puts money in our pockets. . ."

"I know, and that's why I am helping you. But I need more than this. I need to get out and see why we're working so hard to stay in this town!"

"It's not like we have anywhere else to go, Meg."

"I know. But really, Mother—it's still daylight. And I won't be gone long. Erik goes out every night and stays out who knows how long . . ."

"Erik is not my child!" Annie hissed. "I don't have to worry about him!"  
"You won't have to worry about me, either, mother." Meg insisted more gently. "I promise," she assured the nervous woman before her. "I'll be fine."

Antoinette looked hesitantly, for a moment, into the pleading eyes of her only daughter. Begrudgingly relenting, and against her better judgment, she sighed and huffed, "Be back before dark, Meg Giry,"

"Of course I shall, Mother," she squealed in excitement.

"Remember, Meg," her mother reiterated, with an irritated scowl. "One minute past sunset, and I shall remind you that I know how to use my cane."

Kissing the older woman on the cheek, Meg shed her apron, laying it on the cleaning cart before walking quickly down the hall, lest her mother change her mind.

Once outside, Meg sucked a long breath into her lungs, and immediately began coughing due to the not so fresh air around her. The day was moist and hot, and Meg could practically feel her curls begin to unravel and fray in the humidity. Still, it felt better than being stuck inside that hotel, side stepping roaches and scrubbing stains.

The sights and sounds of this strange new city assaulted Meg's senses as she wandered aimlessly through the streets. There were people—so many people—everywhere—on the sidewalks, moving hurriedly beside her; in the unsettling motor coaches Erik referred to as cars; entering and exiting the tall, glittery buildings that stretched up and touched the sky. The expressions on their faces were serious, purposeful, as if each one of them had somewhere terribly important to be, and something incredibly urgent to do. Many of them, Meg noticed, had one of those strange, new picture devices held to their ear. _Strange_, she thought. _Why would they need to listen to pictures?_

Meg continued to roam the busy streets, taking in everything around her. The colors were so vibrant, the sounds so intense, that they were deafening. The air was so dense, it was almost as if it had arms that were wrapping themselves around her, holding her too close and making it hard to breathe. Everything was electric in this city—everything was alive—and despite the stifling heat, Meg's arms drew up around her chest as she suddenly found herself feeling very small.

Still, she did not turn back. If this was the world in which she was now forced to live, she had to somehow get used to it. She had to find more for herself than a roach infested hotel and a cot alongside her newly re-married mother. So onward she pressed into the throng of faces, the hum of the city around her compelling her onward.

It wasn't long before she noticed that the atmosphere had changed somewhat. Gone were the characterless buildings whose occupants seemed so serious and determined. In this part of town, couples walked hand in hand, children smiled, and a general sense of excitement filled the air. Large posters advertising fantastical shows were hung everywhere and marquees with flashing lights beckoned visitors to visit "Winter Garden," "Palace," "Broadway." Although Meg was still unfamiliar with the town, she recognized that she was in a theater district of some sort, and her heart thrilled in recognition. THIS was something she knew. THIS was something she understood. This was passion and music, and the magic of dance—this was what her life had centered on back at the Garnier.

Meg could hardly believe that this city boasted so many theaters. In Paris, the Garnier was the apex of culture and performance, but apparently, in New York, the love for theater and the arts abounded and overflowed into a myriad of fine venues. Meg gazed eagerly at the posters adorning the walls of the theaters as she wandered the blocks and blocks of inviting playhouses. A sparkling glass slipper announced the arrival of Cinderella in one theater, and a stern looking feline heralded that the Lion King was holding court in another. Meg raised her eyebrows at the two red thigh high boots which formed the first letter of a show called Kinky Boots, and was surprised to see a title that she recognized, Les Miserables, was drawing crowds into one of the theaters as well.

Meg was still exploring all that the theater district had to offer when a familiar presence suddenly loomed before her. About halfway down the street, high above the walkway, beckoned a ghostly white mask on a pale blue background. The mask was one she had seen many times before—too many times, in fact, since she and her family had found themselves suddenly living in the 21st century. "Erik," Meg mumbled to herself as the image compelled her forward. What on earth was Erik's mask doing on the marquee of a theater?

She approached the building with the mask, and noticed the shattered letters that spelled the words The Phantom of the Opera. _How did the people of the 21st century know the title of the Opera Ghost? _More pictures accompanied the poster of the mask. One depicted a masquerade ball, with splendid costumes and faces shining bright with vitality and excitement, and Meg was reminded of the gala ball at which The Vicomte and Christine had fallen in love. Another showed a gentleman, well dressed in a white bowtie and tailcoat, singing to a captivated brunette in a white dressing gown. The gentleman was wearing a mask, which concealed the right side of his face—so she knew it had to be Erik. But was the woman with him supposed to be Christine? _That's ridiculous! _She thought. _Christine would never have been alone with Erik wearing nothing but a dressing gown! Neither one of them would have stood for that! _Still more pictures that were familiar, yet somehow wrong lined the brick façade of the building, but soon Meg came to one which took her breath away.

A young lady with long blond curls, wearing a traditional white tutu with ballet slippers, stood next to a tall slim woman with black hair tied back into a bun. Meg reached out to touch the image before her. "It's me," she breathed as she gazed at the girl who was dressed as she once had been. Meg had once been a part of the beautiful spectacle of the stage, dancing some of the most graceful parts for some of the most elegant characters ever written. Now, apparently, she herself, and so many other people that she knew, _were_ characters in a stage play—and other people were portraying _them_. She didn't know how or why this had happened, and the thought of somebody else pretending to be her was rather unnerving. She felt little tremors begin to travel through her body, and her legs began to sway.

"Excuse me, Miss, but are you alright?" came the gentle, concerned voice from behind her. She turned slowly to see a pair of crystalline blue eyes peering out at her from beneath a curly mop of golden curls, and the immediate flash of recognition made Meg faint dead away, into his waiting arms.

* * *

"Will you please stop tinkering with that number?" Nadir huffed as he saw Erik, once again, trying to right the crooked 5 on the door to their room. "We have so many other things we should be doing!"

"The toilet in 107 will still be stopped up ten minutes from now," Erik muttered nonchalantly as he turned the screwdriver to the right, trying, once again, to fasten the brass digit securely to the door.

"But you've been fiddling with that number for fifteen minutes already," Nadir exclaimed in exasperation. "There's also the sink in 210 that has a leak, and the fourth floor hallway that needs touch ups on paint. Time's a-wasting, Erik!"

"This _bothers_ me, Daroga." Erik hissed, as he made one final turn to hold the number in place. "There," he said, stepping back to admire the now straight number 5. "That should do it."

"It's about time," Nadir muttered as Erik surveyed his work with a satisfied smile. "Now, can we go do the rest of our jobs."

"Of course, Daroga," Erik smirked as he bent to return the screwdriver to the toolbox.

"Room 107, then," Nadir declared once they had reached the elevator, pressing the down button.  
"I think you can deal with toilet matters very well on your own, Daroga." Erik countered as he pressed the up button. "I shall go touch up the paint on the fourth floor. After all," he added, as the elevator dinged and the doors opened, "Time's a-wasting."

As the heavy doors groaned shut and Erik was sealed, alone, into the moving compartment, the last thing he saw was Nadir's face turning red in irritation. "I think the Persian is annoyed with me," he chuckled to himself once the metal box began its ascent. "Good."

Erik made methodical work of the painting, humming to himself as he did so. He let his mind wander to the days he spent working on the Garnier and marveled at how mundane his life had become. He had gone from erecting one of the world's most opulent buildings to painting over holes and stains in a flea-ridden hotel. My how the mighty Phantom had fallen! But in truth, it made no difference to him. His fall, and subsequent journey into hell,had begun the day he let Jenna go—the day his heart broke in two.

When the last blemish was covered over with paint, Erik gathered up his supplies and boarded the elevator once again, this time pressing the button that would take him to the alley entrance where the dumpsters were kept. He lifted the heavy lid, and quickly disposed of the filthy drop cloths that had been used far too many times, turning up his nose at the stench of decay that wafted up from the receptical's prior contents. He was just about to turn to go back inside, when he heard a loud thud and a whimper coming from the far end of the alley. Keeping to the shadows, pressed flat against the wall, Erik went to investigate.

A large, suit clad thug, had a smaller, younger man pinned up against a wall with one hand. "See here," the brute sneered, swinging a baseball bat back and forth in his hand. "I'm gonna show you how I deal with little snitches who want to rat me out."

"PLEASE!" the smaller man begged, hunching up his shoulders in order to shield his head. "I don't even know what you're talking about!"

"Yeah, sure you don't," the thug responded with an eye roll. "I caught you red handed, snooping around places where you shouldn't'a been. I have been itching to cause some pain to the Adolfo family for some time now, and you just gave me the perfect excuse."

"I. . .I wasn't snooping. I was looking for my brother. I swear."

"Yeah," he cackled darkly, as he extended his arm back to swing the bat. "Well your brother is gonna to have ta look for you at the bottom of the Hudson. How you think Vinny gonna like finding his little brother sleepin' with the fishes?" He brought the bat forward, but it suddenly fell to the ground as his hand shot open when a circle of rope closed around his neck.

The younger man's eyes widened to see a tall, thin, masked man, holding his attacker in a strangle hold with a noose around his neck. The goon wrestled against his captivity, but soon enough, his struggles faded, and he fell to the ground. The youth's savior released the noose, as he took a step back, never moving his disgusted gaze from his victim on the pavement.

The young man took a tentative step forward, and asked, with a shaky voice, "Is. . .is he dead?"

"No," Erik replied, still not looking up. "Only unconscious. I'd advise that you leave."

"Y. . .y. . .y. . .yessir," the young man took another few steps away from the wall. "Thank you."

"Hey!" came the shout from the opening of the alley. "Benny! What're you doin' in there?"

Erik finally looked up to see the young man's eyes shoot down the alleyway. A large, round figure, wearing a three-piece gray suit and a black fedora had emerged from one of the finest looking vehicles Erik had seen thus far during his forced stay in this town. He was flanked by two taller, more menacing looking acquaintances, both wearing dark suits, and darker glasses, their mouths drawn into tight angry lines. All three individuals were walking their way.

Erik braced his body for trouble, his shoulders hunched slightly forward, ready to lunge at a moment's notice. His gaze was focused, locked on the approaching threat, and his fingers curled tightly around the Punjab lasso in his hand.

"It's alright," the youth exclaimed, noticing the tension in his protector's body. "That's my brother, Vinny."

"Lovely," Erik sneered sarcastically, his senses still hyper alert.

Vinny reached them and looked down at the body on the ground, the bat only inches away from where he lay. "Paulie Esposito," he murmured in surprise, before looking back up at his little brother. "Benny, what in the hell happened here?"

"It was Paulie," Benny started to explain, nervously. "He attacked me. Was threatening to bash my brains in with a baseball bat—to send me to sleep with the fishes."

"For WHAT?" his brother asked in surprise.

"He. . .he said he caught me snooping." He held his hands up in a defensive gesture. "I wasn't. I swear! I had just gone into the Trattoria looking for you. It's not my fault he was in there having a meeting with his bosses.

"The Chiambis. . ." his brother muttered under his breath, before looking at Erik and asking, "Who the hell are you? Batman?"

Erik's exposed eyebrow raised and he was about to answer in a not so congenial fashion, when Benny blurted out, "He saved me, Vince. He put Paulie in a chokehold until he dropped the bat and passed out. He saved my life."

Vinny continued to look into Erik's eyes and appraise the mysterious man who had been his little brother's savior. Slowly, Erik saw a gleam of appreciation lighten the man's gaze, as his pudgy face broke out into a grin. He reached out and unexpectedly grasped Erik's hand into a firm and vigorous handshake. "Hey, Batman, you're alright!"

Erik's eyes narrowed a bit in disdain, as he retrieved his hand. He nodded and turned to go, but he felt a meaty hand clasp him on the shoulder. "Hey, _Paisan_," Vinny began with a familiarity he had not earned, gesturing with the hand that was not currently perched on Erik's person. "You protected my little brother. You safeguarded my family." He stopped gesticulating for a moment to procure something from his pocket and place it in Erik's palm. "There may come a day when you need me to perform a service for you. Maybe a little clean up here, a little disposal there—maybe you need to lay low, with a new name—a new identity. I run a very successful _construction_ business in the city, _capice_? Should that day ever come, call me. I am in your debt for saving my brother. And Vinny Adolfo _always_ honors a debt."

Erik looked at his hand to see a small card printed with the title "Big A's Construction" at the top, followed by the name Vincent Adolfo. There was a list of numbers beneath the name and Erik now understood enough about the 21st Century to know that if he pressed these numbers in sequence, on something called a telephone, he would be able to reach Vincent—whom he assumed was also "Big A." Based on the offer made, Erik thought it was a safe bet that Vincent wasn't really involved with construction. Still, Erik placed the card in his trouser pocket and nodded again to Vincent before he turned to go. He was allowed to leave this time, and did, with haste, but he heard Vincent chuckle, as he made his way back down the alley, "Only you could find a way to be saved by Batman, Benny!"

"He wasn't Batman," Erik heard Benny reply. "More like The Phantom of the Opera."

"Heh heh. That's even better." Vinny snapped his fingers and all at once his two muscly henchmen were alert and ready to do his bidding. "Drag him to the car and load him up. He's got some explaining to do." The conversation behind him was soon replaced by grunting as Erik opened the hotel's service door. The last thing he heard was Vincent directing his lackeys, "Yeah, that's right, that's right. Make sure you hit his head on the bumps here and there." With a roll of his eyes, Erik closed the door.

**So. Who do you think the strong arms that caught Meg belong to? And how did you like Erik's good deed? Please review, and let me know what you think. I do get your reviews in email, I just haven't been able to respond, due to whatever technical glitch fan fiction is experiencing. But I will get back to each one of you personally as soon as possible! Thanks again!**


	7. Chapter 7

******Erik's guest: You never know. . .Erik might LIKE to play with the phone every now and then. :) **

**Yippee! I am able to respond to reviews again! So keep them coming. Pretty please.**

**Well, lets see what Madame Giry is going to with herself now that little Meg has gone out to play.**

CH 6

As Antoinette watched her daughter disappear down the corridor, she was already regretting her decision. Anything could happen to Meg out in the city alone. From what Antoinette had witnessed, it was not a friendly place—with so many people and so much … commotion … everywhere. Her stomach was churning and she felt her hands beginning to tremble. _Get yourself together, Antoinette!_ her inner voice scolded her. _Meg is a grown woman. She will be fine!_ _New York is not so different from Paris. Except for the cars_ … _and the crowds, and …_

Recognizing that this line of thinking was not making her feel any better, Antoinette took a deep, cleansing breath. She removed her apron, and pushed her cart to the utility closet, with the intention of going back to her room to perhaps watch a show on that little box with the moving pictures. She had found it mildly entertaining the other evening, and she would do anything to get her mind off her daughter out there, alone and defenseless, on the streets of New York.

She walked down the hallway in the direction of the elevators, wringing her hands. She was about halfway down the corridor when she saw a room door slightly ajar, and heard a familiar voice cussing from inside.

"Nadir?" she asked, opening the door a bit more and peering inside.

Her husband, who was bent over the toilet bowl, leaning on a plunger, looked up at the sound of her voice.

"Annie, hi. Just," he turned back to the toilet and pushed the plunger down once more with a grunt, "trying to unclog this toilet. Erik stole away to paint the 4th floor hallway," he shoved the plunger down again, making another grunting noise, "leaving me the dirty work. And this one," _heave, grunt,_ "is pretty dirty."

Antoinette watched her husband rhythmically pushing the plunger up and down.

He was facing away from her and she enjoyed the view of his muscled back and his firm derriere as he plunged. She was reminded, pleasantly this time, that Meg was out. Erik was working around the hotel, and, as a general rule, spent as little time as possible in the room. They were alone for the remainder of the afternoon.

She had been appreciating the view of her husband physically exerting himself, for a few moments before he looked over at her and asked, "Where's Meg?"

"She's out." Annie informed him, as she walked toward him a little.

"Out?" Nadir stopped what he was doing and looked at his wife with surprise, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"She wanted to see the city," Antoinette told him, getting a little closer now. She put her arms out and rested her hands on her husband's shoulders, rubbing them sensually as she did. "She is grown, Nadir. I couldn't stop her."

Nadir closed his eyes and felt a surge of excitement run through him at the combination of his wife's words and her exquisite touch. They had not been alone together in such a very long time—certainly not since before the wedding.

"Does this mean, Madame Kahn," he asked, in a low, rumbly voice, which laid bare his desire. "That we are actually alone for a few hours?"

"It does indeed, Monsieur Kahn." She whispered, reaching up on her tiptoes to lay a suggestive kiss on her husband's needy lips.

Annie's kiss was all the invitation Nadir needed. When they broke apart, he dropped his plunger, took Annie's hand in his and said, "Let's go to bed." With a giggle, Antoinette murmured, "I thought you'd never get the hint!"

When Erik saw Nadir and Annie standing at the front door of their room, arms around each other's waists, he paused at the end of the hall. As he saw them exchange a heated kiss, while Nadir fumbled with the key, Erik got the distinct impression his presence would not be appreciated by the newlyweds at that moment. His stomach feeling slightly queasy, he turned to go before even hearing the door slam shut behind him.

* * *

"Miss . . ." she heard the slightly alarmed voice call to her. The world was black around her and she felt the sensation of spinning, but she was slowly coming back to reality. She felt warm air encircling her. Something was gently tapping her cheek and she felt as if she were being cradled in someone's lap. "Miss . . ." she heard the deep, rich tones beckoning her again. "Come on, Miss. Come back to us now."

Meg's eyes began to flutter open. She squinted against the glare of the setting sun, and turned her head to the side. "That-a-girl," she heard the sonorous voice say again, and suddenly, someone was pushing the hair away from her forehead, gently stroking her face. Meg was instantly awake to find that she was in the arms of the man with the blue eyes and the golden curls. "Well, hello there," he said as his mouth turned up into an angel's smile. "I'm glad you're back."

"W…w…What…" Meg sputtered, looking at him. "What happened?"

"Well, you seemed a little unsteady on your feet, and then, you just . . . fainted. Here," he said, reaching into a satchel at his side, and pulling out one of the clear plastic bottles of water that were so popular in this age. "Drink this. It'll help."

Meg eyed the man who had softened her fall a bit warily before putting the bottle to her lips and taking a sip. She had yet to understand why Erik and her family had been transported to this new city in this new age, and now this? How was it that the Vicomte' was here too? He had not even been at the opera house the night of the explosion. He and Christine had been on their own extended honeymoon. Christine. _Christine?_

"Where is Christine?" Meg asked, suddenly looking around, in the hopes of seeing her once dear roommate and friend. "Is she with you?"

Her savior looked at her a bit quizzically, eyebrow raised. "I don't know anyone named Christine."

Meg felt panic setting into her soul, since what he was saying was not possible. "But you just married her."

"Um, Miss," he asked her, looking her head over a bit more closely. "Did you hit your head when you fell?"

"No, Vicomte'," she shook her head vigorously. "I am just fine."

"Vicomte'?" her benefactor exclaimed, looking quite confused. "I am a doctor, not nobility."

"That's right," Meg gasped. "I SAW you at the hospital."

"You were at the hospital?" His eyes narrowed in concern. "Have you been ill recently?"

"No, no." Meg tried to wave off his worry. "It's a . . . it's a LONG story."

"I see. Miss," he said, squeezing her hand and smiling, "I would feel much better if you come back with me to the hospital where I could examine you more closely in the emergency room."

"No, no, I'm fine. Just a little. . .confused."

"But that could be a sign of a concussion," he pressed on, gently.

"No, no, I was confused before I fell." When Meg noticed him raise a bewildered eyebrow, she continued. "Really, I promise. I will be ok. But I need to get home," she said, nervously noticing that the sun was getting low in the sky. She pushed herself up and tried to stand. "It's starting to get dark and mother will be furious if I'm late."

"Whoa, whoa!" he said, standing up and helping her steady herself. "If you won't come to the hospital to be checked out, I insist you at least let me walk you home."

"Oh, that's really not necessary . . ."

"It is for me." The doctor insisted, with a smile. "I want to make sure you don't pass out again. I'd really feel much better if I saw you safely home."

Meg felt a slight blush come over her cheeks, at the sight of his beautiful smile. "Alright, but really, we must hurry. I cannot be late."

"Will you turn into a pumpkin?" he asked her, jokingly with a conspiratorial smile.

"What?" she asked, with a nervous giggle, not having the faintest idea what he was talking about.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said with a chuckle of his own. "Come on, Cinderella, let's go."

Meg realized then that he was joking with her and flashed the doctor a sweet smile.

"What's your name, Miss, if you don't mind my asking?" the doctor questioned, as he walked easily by her side.

"Oh, I'm Meg."

"Well, nice to meet you, Meg," the doctor said, extending his hand. "I'm Chris."

* * *

"Thank you so much, Doctor, for walking me home," Meg said with a smile, as she looked up at the handsome man beside her.

"Oh, please, Meg, call me Chris," he smiled back at her, and Meg's tummy did a little flop.

"Well …" she sputtered, because she was truly distracted by the way his eyes were twinkling as he looked at her. "I guess this is goodbye. My mother would be terribly upset with me if I stayed out past dark. We're new here."

"Can I see you to your room?" Chris asked. "Perhaps I can meet your mother and

explain the situation to her."

"Oh no!" Meg insisted quickly. There was no way she wanted him to see the pathetic conditions in which she lived—and her mother would never have approved of her keeping company, alone, with a man—even if he was handsome, and sweet, and ohhh so dreamy. In fact, those are most likely the reasons her mother would not have wanted her to be alone with him. She gave an awkward little laugh when she realized just how forceful her refusal had sounded. "I mean, that's totally not necessary. I'll explain it myself."

Chris looked at her, hesitating for a moment, but then finally acquiesced. "Alright, Meg. This is goodnight. But please promise me if you feel ill in anyway in the next few days, that you'll come to the emergency room."

"Yes," Meg nodded her head in assurance. "I will. I promise."

"And have them page me," he insisted. "I'll come down to make sure they treat you right."

_Oh, and I bet he would treat me right_, she thought, sighing, as she leaned back against the door. "I will."

"Ok then," Chris said, with another little smile. "Goodnight, Meg."

"Goodnight, Chris," she answered, with a little wave. "Thank you again."

"Really, it was my pleasure." He reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and with a final grin, he turned and began to walk down the block.

Meg opened the door to the hotel and floated to room 305. She smiled as she recalled the sweet way he'd said goodnight, and how his hand had felt when it squeezed hers. With a sigh, she leaned back against the door to her room and wondered what it would be like to see him again. "I bet he's a flowers and candy kind of gentleman. Just like the Vicomte'." _No, not like the Vicomte'_, Meg reminded herself. Despite his strong resemblance to the man she once fancied, he was a doctor, not a nobleman. His interest in her was merely professional, especially since, he was probably already married. She recalled the woman who was quite with child that she had seen him with at the hospital. "She's so lucky," she thought to herself, realizing that, in this one way, at least, Chris was exactly like the Vicomte'. He was already madly in love with another woman.

Feeling a bit deflated—even though she had no reason to believe she would ever see the gallant young doctor again—Meg opened the door to her room, stepping inside, and immediately wished she hadn't. The first thing she noticed were clothes strewn all over the normally tidy floor. Then her gaze moved across the room, where she heard strange, muffled noises.

"Oh my GOD!" she balked, when she saw the bed, in which her mother and her stepfather were carnally . . . engaged. She immediately shielded her eyes and turned away.

"Meg!" her stepfather called out in alarm.

"What're you doing back?" her mother gasped, pulling the blanket up to cover her rather bare chest.

"You told me to be home before dark."

All three looked to the hotel window, which showed that dusk was now beginning to dim the bright oranges and pinks of sunset. Nadir looked at Antoinette, and Antoinette sighed petulantly, muttering, "It's not _that_ dark."

Meg scowled, "Mother!"

"What your mother is trying to say dear," again, Nadir stepped in to attempt to play peacemaker between the two Giry women he held in such high esteem. "Is that we were just married, and never really had a chance to enjoy a honeymoon."

Meg grunted in disgust. "Are there any rooms you haven't finished cleaning, _Madame_?" Meg asked turning back toward the door. "I suddenly feel the need for some space. Obviously, so do the two of you."

Antoinette responded in annoyance, "There is a toilet that needs unclogging in room 107." When Nadir turned to stare at her in shock, she added, "_What_? You weren't able to finish it."

"Ugh." Meg groaned, as she stormed out of the room. "I _hate_ this place!"

* * *

Erik stared out at the river as darkness enveloped the world around him. It had become his habit to travel nightly to the pier and gaze upon the solitary figure who stood there faithfully each evening watching the waves. Jenna too, it seemed, had trouble sleeping. He wondered, did the river, soothe her, as it did him? After all, it had been these very waters that had first brought her to his home.

Once again he recalled the night he heard a crash in his cave and found her there, bedraggled, injured, and looking so confused. He had thought her a mental patient, but had discovered, soon enough, that she would be his salvation—teaching him, finally, what it meant to love another person, and feel that love returned. She had been a partner in his schemes, the confidant to his deepest secrets, and finally, his lover. And it had nearly been his complete undoing when he'd had to let her go.

So many nights he had spent in his lair since her departure, staring at the lake, listening intently for another crash, another disturbance that could signal her return. He dreamed of running back to the cave, and seeing her there—smiling this time because she knew exactly where she was and was happy to be coming back to him. He would go to her and open his arms, and with a radiant smile, she would walk into them, never letting her gaze leave his, as he enclosed her in his embrace. They would simply stare for a few moments into each other's eyes, before slowly, joyfully joining their lips in a kiss, tasting, savoring the sweetness that they had each gone without for so long. When their mouths parted, he would waste no more time, declaring the certainty that had long ago seized his heart. "I love you, Jenna. I've always loved you," he would profess breathlessly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her eyes.

"I know, Erik," she would whisper with a tearful smile. "I've always known. That's why I've come home."

He would then kiss her again, knowing as their tongues met and their fingers tangled in each other's hair, that there would be nothing—no force in heaven or on earth—that could ever again compel him to let her go. He would lift her in his arms, carrying her to his bed—their bed—where he would spend the rest of the night making love to her, knowing that this beautiful, perfect woman would be his lover—his _wife_—for all eternity, and the logical world be damned.

But all too soon, the fantasy was over, and the deafening silence surrounding him had always proven the most riotous of sounds. There would be no reunion. There would be no return. His love would never come for him, because she was already home. And her home was not with him.

Erik's gaze focused on the water once again, watching as the light from the street lamps danced on the ripples of the river. As the streets around the waterfront grew empty, Jenna turned to begin the journey back to her apartment building. He ghosted protectively behind her, past the lights that still glowed softly, and the occasional revelers who were not afraid of the dark, keeping his hat pulled low so as not to draw attention to his mask. When he passed a lone peddler, walking the quiet streets with his cart of flowers, Erik stopped the man briefly, always keeping Jenna in his sights, and parted with a few of his hard earned dollars for a single red rose, though in truth, he knew not why.

By the time he'd caught up with her, Jenna was entering the tall brick building that was her home. He waited in the shadows, as he often did, watching as one by one, the lights in the windows blinked out. He thought again, of Jenna as she would soon be, resting behind one of those windows, swollen with child—still so dazzling, so beautiful in her slumber. "What I wouldn't give, My Jenna," he whispered to the wind, "to have you still love me. To know that it was my babe that grew within you. I would do anything—give anything to have you back, my love."

But he knew that was impossible. She had rightfully moved on—falling in love with someone else. The baby she was carrying belonged to her new love and not to him. There was nothing he could do—nothing he could give that would bring her back to him. So, bending low to her doorstep, Erik left her his rose, and silently continued on his way.

**Hey, Erik, I can think of something you could do. TALK TO HER! Sheesh! Stubborn, stubborn man!**

**Well, Erik has left a rose for his love-some habits die hard, so to speak. **

**And Meg did, in fact, have an encounter with our dear doctor. And if she's Cinderella, he can CERTAINLY be Prince Charming. :)**

**Nadir and Madame put their alone time to good use-but, wow, what a thing for Meg to walk in on! Oh well. They ARE newly-weds. **

**Please keep your lovely reviews coming! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks everyone for your reviews yesterday. I know Meg is having a rough time right now, but I have wonderful things planned for her. And it seems that a line is forming to kick some sense into Erik. As long as we keep it orderly. Wouldn't want Madame to have to use her cane. ;)**

**So let's see what Jenna thinks when she finds the rose, shall we? **

CH 7

Jenna slammed the alarm clock as it continued to scream its obnoxious wake up call. With a groan she opened her eyes and was immediately assaulted by bright sunlight peeking through the slats in her blinds. For what must have been the thousandth time since her return, Jenna longed for the dulcet tones of a tinkling piano and the soft glow of candles to rouse her from her slumber, instead of this siren's blare. Of course, when she had been staying in the lair, she never minded waking up, because it meant more time with Erik.

Erik. Would she ever stop thinking about him, longing for him, missing him? Would there ever be a time when she didn't feel his breath on her neck with every breeze or hear his voice in her dreams? "My Jenna," he whispered to her every night before launching into a sweet love song, which would invariably end with her wrapping her arms around him and kissing him deep and slow. His fingers would leave the keys of the piano only to tangle themselves in her hair, and they would revel in their love and passion for one another until this unconscionably rude alarm clock woke her and reminded her that he wasn't there, he wasn't kissing her, and he didn't love her. _No_, she would recall as the dagger plunged into her heart once again. _He was in love with Christine._

Jenna threw off the covers and bolted out of bed—as much as a woman who was nine months pregnant could bolt anywhere. She smiled for a moment as she rubbed her belly. "Pretty soon, I'm going to be having a different wake up call, huh, Little One?"

"Mreeooooooow!" she heard as Red arrived and jumped up on the bed for some attention.

"Yes, Red," she said, rolling her eyes and scratching him behind the ears. "I know you will do your best to wake me too." Jenna waddled to the bathroom as fast as her swollen feet would take her, and began to get ready for her day.

Chris was always yelling at her that she should not be working any longer. "You are nearly nine months pregnant, Jenna." He would try to convince her, whenever he was in one of his _taking care of her _moods, "You should not be working. You should rest for when the baby comes."

She knew he was right—and she knew she would advise anyone else the same way. But things were ready for the baby. The nursery was painted, the crib put together, and all of the little blue outfits were washed, rewashed and, thanks to Chris, folded and neatly put away. There was nothing more to do at home except wait for her baby boy to make his appearance—and miss his father as she did. At least work kept her mind busy and somewhat off of Erik—and really, if work was going to induce early labor, at least she would be in the right place for it.

She took a quick shower and hurriedly put a can of cat food out for Red. "Be good, boy," she bid him a fond farewell, as she scratched behind his ears. "I'll see you tonight. Maybe we can watch some Animal Planet."

She grabbed her bag and walked out the door, shutting it behind her and carefully navigating down the flights of stairs to the exit. It was early morning still, so it was blessedly quiet in the apartment building, even though she could already hear the buzz of activity beginning to start up on the street. She relished her last serene moments of silence, before she opened the door.

And both silence and buzz were drowned out by the thrum of her suddenly slamming heartbeat. A rose—long stemmed, red, and perfect—lay there on the front steps, as if it was waiting only for her. _Erik!_ she thought. Erik's rose.

She reached down and took it gingerly in her hands, bringing it to her face, drinking in its sweet scent. Truly, it was just like another rose, a lifetime ago, a world away… "For your part in our little adventure, my lady," he had said to her, as he bowed before her and handed her the flower—a prize for being his helper; a token for his mate. That rose, and the loss of it, had set so much in motion. It was that same night that she had challenged him, had demanded he snap her neck to prove his monstrous nature. Later still she sat there, and held him as he cried, purging years worth of torment from his soul. And the next morning, she had woken in his arms, realizing without a doubt, that she had given over her heart to this man, who even then, she knew, was in love with someone else.

_Get ahold of yourself, Jenna!_ her thoughts scolded. _This is NOT Erik's rose!_

But everything about this rose _was_ Erik. Its softness was the velvet lining of his cape, wrapped around her to shelter and keep her warm. Its grace was the way he carried himself—so elegant, so proud. Its thorns were his anger, when he felt someone he cared about was being threatened—his retribution was swift and painful. And its beauty—_that_ was his soul.

In truth, Jenna knew this rose could not have really been from Erik. There were so many rose vendors in New York! It had probably just fallen off a cart. Or maybe it was left over from some lovers' spat, the hope of romance abandoned on her doorstep. _But remember the night … _her mind drifted to another night filled with roses, where they had danced, and he had kissed her, and whispered her name. That night that had ended in desire and passion and what she thought was so much love. But it was really the beginning of the end, she remembered, when she thought about how, from that night on, Erik had been so cold and withdrawn. That night, when she thought her dream was finally beginning, it was already over.

With a deep sigh, she reached down and touched her belly. No, it was not over. A new future had begun. That was the night they'd conceived their son. And he was her future now. "You're everything to me, Little One," she told her unborn child, placing the rose back down on the doorstep as a surprise for the next neighbor who walked by. "We've got to leave the past behind." With that, she stepped onto the sidewalk, and began her walk to work.

* * *

"So she just passed out?" Jenna asked, as she took another bite of her burger. The cafeteria food might not be the finest cuisine, but she was 9 months pregnant and hungry all the time. Just about anything would do.

"Yeah," Chris nodded, popping a fry in his mouth. "It was the strangest thing. I was walking up the block and I noticed her standing there, staring at one of the posters on the wall. Just as I got up to where she was, she fainted. Lucky I was there to catch her."

Jenna looked down into her water glass, and tried to hide a smirk. "Yes. She was very lucky to land in your arms." She took a deep breath and gaze back up quickly, to see that Chris already had an annoyed look on his face. "So, what do you think caused her to faint? Dehydration? Low blood sugar?"

"Well, that's the thing," he answered, his mind once more on the mysterious woman he had helped on the street, forgetting about his friend's insinuations. "She refused to come in and let me examine her. Said her mother would get upset if she were late. So I just walked her home."

"Oh," Jenna commented, looking slightly disappointed. "So she was a young girl?"

"Oh no," Chris shook his head, taking a sip of his coke. "She was definitely a woman."

This time Jenna couldn't hold back a smile. "Oh, _definitely_ a woman? You noticed that, huh?"

Chris again looked at her with mild annoyance. "Well, I'd have to have been blind not to notice."

"Was she pretty?" Jenna prodded.

Turning a bit red, Chris answered, "Yes."

"Did you like her?" she pressed on.

With an annoyed huff, Chris said, "Jenna, come on, what kind of question …"

"So you _did_ like her," Jenna clapped her hands and practically squealed with glee.

"Je …" he began with a sigh, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"When are you gonna call her?" she gushed, reaching forward and grabbing his hand in delight.

"I'm _not_ going to call her, ok?" Chris asserted, not meeting her eye.

"What?" Jenna gasped. "No. _Not_ ok. Why on earth wouldn't you call her?"

"Because I don't have her number!" he shot back, his irritation with Jenna's line of questioning becoming more obvious.

"What?" Jenna shrieked, drawing the attention of some of their co-workers who were also eating in the cafeteria. "_Why_ don't you have her number? I mean, you walked her home!"

"Yes, because I wanted to make certain she was alright. We didn't go on a date." He reminded her in clipped tones.

"I just don't understand why you don't have her number."

"Because she didn't offer it and I didn't ask," he spat. "Look!" he admonished in a harsh whisper, leaning across the table to be closer to her. "Can you keep your voice down? I don't need the whole hospital involved in my personal life."

Jenna looked around and smiled awkwardly at the eyes that had turned in their direction. When one older woman kept staring she actually waved, and said, "Sorry. I'm a little excitable." Then, pointing to her stomach, added with a shrug, "Pregnant."

The woman looked away quickly, and Jenna turned back to Chris who was groaning and covering his face with his hands. "Jenna … you just …"

"Dazzle you?" she asked, batting her eyelashes jokingly.

He looked up at her and laughed despite his embarrassment. "Jenna, you _always_ dazzle me." He reached out and took her hand in his. "You _know_ that."

Jenna looked at him and once again wondered why she couldn't fall in love with him. He was so perfect, looking at her with those twinkling blue eyes that peeked out from unruly golden curls. He was so sweet, and so supportive, and so funny—not to mention a brilliant doctor. He was an incredible catch for any woman, and Jenna felt like she needed to have her head examined. But she knew she could not keep him. Her heart was too damaged.

"It sounds like _she_ kind of dazzled you too," she said softly, with a squeeze to the hand that was holding hers. "And, Chris, you promised me."

With another heavy sigh, Chris nodded and said. "I know. But I still don't have her number."

"You know where she lives."

"So what am I supposed to do? Just show up on her doorstep?"

"Why not?"

Chris laughed a little self-consciously, "Because she'll think I'm a stalker?"

"Or just a sweetie checking up on her—and asking if she'd like to go out to dinner."

Chris looked down at the table and let out a groan. "Jenna. . ."

"A promise is a promise, Chris!" She insisted, sweetly.

Throwing his hands up in the air, he finally blurted, "Alright. I'll do it."

"You will?" Jenna shrieked again. Practically bouncing up and down in her seat.

"Anything to get you off my back!" he laughed at her exuberance. "Now calm down or you're going to have our baby right here."

"Oh, _our_ baby?" She looked at him wide eyed and laughed.

Chris took another sip from his straw and answered, "You _know_ he's going to like me best."

"Probably, but that's just because you're going to spoil him!"

"Yup." His eyes flashed, as he stole one of Jenna's fries and popped it into his mouth. "Rotten!"

Jenna laughed and asked, "Chris, _what_ am I going to do with you?"

"Do you take requests?" He asked raising an eyebrow and dodged as she chucked another fry at him.

As Jenna and Chris rose from their table, they saw the same old lady from earlier staring at them in a disapproving fashion. Unable to stop herself, she took Chris's arm, then turned to the lady to say, with a salacious tone, "He's _not_ my husband, and this isn't even his baby! But that doesn't stop him from spending his nights with me. Juicy enough for you?" Then as the woman looked at her, scandalized, Jenna held her head high and turned and led them both out of the room to the bay of elevators.

Looking a bit shocked and greatly amused, Chris asked her, "Jenna! Where did you learn your manners?"

Momentarily taken aback by thoughts of the last man who questioned her etiquette, she smirked to herself and answered with a faraway glance, "From a man who crawled around behind walls, and left toads in ladies' dressing rooms."

Chris looked absolutely flabbergasted. "Wha …"

"Sorry Chris," she chuckled, as they stepped inside the elevator, "I can't be responsible for what I say. I'm nine months pregnant."

Shaking his head, he asked, with a laugh, "What are you going to do when you can't use that excuse anymore?"

"I'll just think of another one," she answered with a wink and an innocent smile as the metal doors clanged shut.

* * *

Chris looked at the old, brownstone hotel before him. Shaking his head back and forth, he asked himself, "Why do I let her talk me into these things?"

This was where he had left the sweet blond girl who had fainted in his arms the evening before. Last night, she had so consumed his attention that he'd barely noticed what the place looked like, but now, without her by his side, Chris took in aspects of its condition that he had not noticed when he was dropping her off.

It was an old building, falling into some disrepair. The three steps up that led to the door were very old concrete, and rife with cracks through which weeds had grown. Flecks of white paint had chipped off the handrail, exposing the black cast iron beneath. There was a small crack in one of the front windows. It struck Chris as sad that a young woman as vibrant as Meg was living in such a dreary looking place. But when he caught himself thinking that her smile probably did much to dispel the gloom, he shook his head vigorously to clear his mind. It was time to go in and talk to her before he created yet another relationship all in his head.

The door squealed on the hinges as Chris pushed it open. The large man at the front desk barely looked up from his newspaper. He was wearing a wife-beater t-shirt that showed an unnecessary amount of chest hair—which was incongruent to the lack of hair atop his head. A cigar stuck out between his lips and when the smoke made Chris cough, the man finally took notice.

"Hey," he said, with a flick of his head. "Need a room?"

"No," Chris said looking down, at the faded floor tiles beneath his feet. "Actually, I was looking for one of your residents. A woman by the name of Meg …"

Meg had just finished cleaning for the afternoon, and wanted to find something to keep her out of her room a little longer. Interrupting her mother and step-father the night before had made her a bit wary of returning to their room too early, and she planned to mop the entryway floor, before making her way back upstairs. But as she headed to the lobby, she heard the familiar voice of the doctor who had helped her the evening before. What was he doing here? He was not supposed to be seeing her like this! She ducked back into the corridor from which she had just come, and shrank up against the wall, to listen to what he was saying.

The clerk looked at Chris as if he had two heads. "What, do I look psychic? Half of these people never even tell me their names. I don't ask neither. Ain't none of my business, as long as they have cash."

Chris opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again, his eyes narrowing in frustration. "Well, surely you'd recognize her. She's petite, slender, with blonde curly hair and big blue eyes? Rosy cheeks? Beautiful smile?"

Beautiful smile? Meg thought, putting her hand to her face in amazement. He said my smile was beautiful? She felt herself blushing at the compliments he'd paid her, and she inched a little more forward in order to hear him better.

"Oh yeah," The man behind the desk answered, with a smirk on his face. "We got lot of girls like that around here. But I bet they'll cost you a pretty penny, Romeo."

Meg's excitement was dashed by the manager's vile insinuations. How dare he compare her to a girl who takes money from men for … for …

"No," the doctor quickly asserted. "I am not talking about a girl like that. She was sweet, and she was shy, and she'd fainted, and I just wanted to check on her.

Oh! Meg's heart warmed again. He wanted to check on me! And he thought I was sweet!

The manager laughed lecherously, "Look, man, if she said she lived here, she ain't so innocent, if you catch my drift. Most of my residents have a little something to hide."

"That's not true!" Meg asserted as she stomped into the lobby, hands balled into tiny fists, finally completely enraged at the manager's vulgarity. "I do not …"

"Meg!" Chris said, smiling as he looked at her. She was just as lovely as he remembered from last night—perhaps even moreso, with her eyes flashing indignantly and her curls bouncing wildly around her face.

Meg's diatribe against the manager was cut short when she heard the doctor say her name. She turned to look at him, and felt as if she'd had the wind knocked out of her. He was so handsome, and sweet and gentlemanly. What was he doing here to see her? She was simply a maid. One in an absolutely disgusting hotel that she and her mother could clean for weeks and barely make a dent. Meg felt the flush of excitement in her cheeks being replaced by the blush of embarrassment as he looked at her.

"Doctor," she responded, looking down. "I was not expecting to see you again."

Chris heard the guffaw of the manager as he realized to whom the doctor had been referring. "Oh, man, I didn't think you were looking to slum it with the staff," he commented. "Especially not this little street urchin."

Meg closed her eyes in mortification at the manager's words. Chris looked back at the manager with clenched jaw, and said, in an icy tone "Meg is exactly the woman I've been looking for."

Chris then turned from the supervisor and walked over to Meg, guiding them a little way back into the hallway so he could talk to her out of range of the manager's lascivious leer. "Hello," he said sweetly, into her deflected gaze.

"Good afternoon, sir," she croaked.

"Sir?" he answered, with a little chuckle. "Why on earth would you be calling me sir? I would think a woman I had held in my arms would realize we were on a first name basis."

Meg's eyes shot up quickly at that comment, only to catch the slight grin on the doctor's handsome face. Smiling herself a little then, she responded, "Forgive me, Chris. It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Meg," Chris answered warmly. "Especially up and about. How are you feeling? Any more episodes of dizziness or feeling faint?"

"No," she shook her head. "I'm feeling quite fine, thank you. Did you really come here just to check on me?"

"Well, not just," he answered, a little color entering his own cheeks. "I was also wondering, Meg—would you like to have dinner with me sometime?"

Meg eyes widened and she raised an eyebrow. "D…d…dinner with you?"

"Yes, I ah…" Chris floundered, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "I just… thought it would be nice to… get to know you better?" He ended his statement as if it were a question, looking up sheepishly to see her response.

Meg could not believe he was asking her to dinner. She was having a hard time containing her excitement. "Doctor … Chris …" she corrected herself, with a little giggle. "I would love to have dinner with you."

Chris's eyes lit up in excitement, as if he'd expected to be refused the pleasure of her company. "Well, that's great. I …uh … how's tomorrow?"

"Dinner tomorrow?" Meg repeated.

"Yes, please. I'd love to see you tomorrow."

Laughing sheepishly, she nodded, "Tomorrow it is, then."

"Great!" he smiled and just looked at her for a moment before adding, "I'll meet you here, then?"

"Yes, that'll be fine."

"Until tomorrow, Meg," he smiled warmly at her, grasping her hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Until tomorrow," she squeezed his hand back before adding, "Chris."

And with that he turned to go. As he walked back toward his apartment, it dawned on him that he really was excited about seeing Meg again tomorrow night. So much so, in fact, that he almost didn't mind having to admit to Jenna that her instinct had been right. In fact, he almost couldn't wait to tell her.

It was ironic, he thought, that Jenna—the woman he'd been so sure would be the love of his life—was giving him dating advice. There was still nothing he would want more than for Jenna to wake up one day and realize she was in love with him. It would be the fulfillment of all of his romantic dreams. But he was finally beginning to believe it was never going to happen. Jenna's heart was stuck on that scum ex-boyfriend who had left her alone, carrying his child. For some reason, she couldn't move on, and as content as he would be to wait for her forever, she wanted him to find someone else to dazzle him. And Meg certainly was dazzling…

Suddenly, he smacked his hand to his forehead and slowly brought it down in front of his face, as he realized the mistake he'd made. "I still haven't gotten her number," he groaned, knowing that Jenna would tease him mercilessly for the oversight. But he smiled when he thought to himself, "I may not have her number, but I do have a date."

**OH! Meg has a date! Meg has a date! But I bet Jenna's still going to ride Chris about not getting her number! (What are friends for?)**

**Speaking of Jenna, she was rather feisty with that old lady, wasn't she? I wonder if it was the same old lady Erik made faint in the elevator. LOL.**

**But she is almost as obtuse as our fallen angel, explaining away the rose as quickly as she did, and not realizing that it was a sign from Erik.**

**Sigh...when will these two learn. Well, actually, only a few more chapters. . .!**

**Please, please review!**

**Thanks!**


	9. Chapter 9

**OK, friends. I don't know WHAT is going on with FF . net. It seems there have been a slew of technical issues these last few days. But if you are reading, I hope you're enjoying, and I will do my best to stay on track as far as posting goes-as long as the powers that be let me!**

Ch 8

"Come on…" Meg muttered, as she rummaged through the box of clothing that had been left by hapless guests of the hotel, who probably were so eager to leave the hellhole that they had not even bothered to pack. "There has to be something here I can wear." Twice now Chris had seen her in her bluish gray maid uniform. She was determined not to accompany him to dinner tonight looking like a servant. She may not have any money, but she did have _some_ pride. It seemed, however, that the patrons of this hotel had similar tastes in attire as they did in lodging. Piece after piece of clothing was ratty and threadbare—better suited for use as a cleaning rag than worn as apparel.

She was just about ready to give up when she finally found a cute denim skirt that looked as if it would fit, and a pink t-shirt that she thought might work with it nicely. Snatching the items out of the box, she rose to close the doors to the closet, and bumped straight back into her mother.

"Whatever are you up to, Meg?" Antoinette asked curiously.

"Oh, just looking through the lost box to see if there was anything in there that I might be able to wear," she answered with a little giggle. "I'm getting a little tired of wearing the uniform all the time."

"I can certainly understand that," Antoinette nodded, looking down at her own drab garb that matched what her daughter was wearing. "Did you find anything?"

"Well," Meg nervously gestured to the outfit she had chosen, "there wasn't much, but I did manage to find this."

Antoinette reached out and took the skirt in her hand, holding it out before her. "Oh, Meg, it's so short," she shook her head disapprovingly. "Perhaps you should keep looking—for something a little longer, maybe."

"Mother," Meg reached out and took the skirt back. "This is the style of this era. Plus, I think this was the _only_ salvageable thing in the box." She sighed heavily, "If we weren't stuck in this hotel, working our fingers to the bone without earning any real money, I might be able to purchase my own clothes."

"Meg," her mother scolded, her hands on her hips, "This hotel provides us a place to stay and food on our plates."

"So that's it?" Meg challenged. "Is there to be nothing else in our lives? Working, eating, sleeping—is that all we're worth?"

"For now, Meg," Antoinette answered, "it will have to do."

"It doesn't _do_, Mother," Meg countered. "It doesn't _do_ at all. I want to _live_. I want to dance. I want _music_."

"In time, Meg, we will return to some normalcy," her mother promised her without looking her in the eye. Truth be told, she could not be sure if there _would_ ever come a time when things would seem more normal. "Until then, you must be grateful for the fact that we are not living on the streets."  
"For that I am grateful, Mother," Meg conceded, then added, "But I'm not going to stop hoping for—and _looking_ for—more." Her mother didn't seem to have anything else to say to that, so Meg asked, "What about you?"

With narrowed eyes, her mother answered, "Me? What do you mean?"

"Are you really satisfied living here?"

Antoinette looked at her daughter and carefully considered what she said next. "I've been blessed, Meg. I have you and now, I have Nadir. I never thought I would find romantic love again after your father passed. I have no need for anything more than my family beside me."

"But what about you and Nadir?" Meg pressed. "You just got married. And look what happened. You've barely had any time alone together—well except for…"

"Yes!" Antoinette interrupted her sharply, wanting very much to forget the moment that Meg discovered her engaged in marital relations with her husband. "I know."

"Mother, why don't you and Nadir go out tonight?"

Antoinette sighed. "Meg, as you pointed out, we have no money."

Meg sighed too, because, truth be told, that was a major barrier to them doing anything outside of the hotel. Then she had a thought. "I've got it!" she exclaimed, with excitement. "We go through this hotel cleaning every day. We know which rooms are in use! What if you and Nadir spend tonight in one of the vacant rooms? That way you can spend the night alone together, without any worries about interruptions. You can have your dinner together there, and enjoy some quiet time afterwards."

Meg could tell her mother was considering this idea, knowing full well that the manager would never know. "What about you, darling?"

"Oh," Meg giggled, knowing that her mother being out on a date of her own would make keeping her own date with Chris _much_ easier. "I'll be just fine. I'll probably have the room all to myself, since Erik is almost never home at night. I'll just watch a little television and probably fall asleep with Ayesha to keep me company. We have a long day of cleaning tomorrow, so I'll want to get some rest."

Antoinette smiled at her daughter. "Thank you, Meg. I have to go find Nadir and tell him we have … plans." At that, Antoinette raced off to find her husband.

Meg smiled to herself. "And I have to go wash my new outfit, because I have plans tonight too!"

* * *

"Good evening, Meg," Chris said with a warm grin, as she emerged from the building. She looked adorable, wearing a pink t-shirt tucked into a short denim skirt. Her blonde curls were cascading down her back, her rosebud lips curved up into a sweet smile. "You look lovely," he reached out and took her hand, holding it and caressing it gently with his thumb as they began to walk.

"Thank you, Chris," she answered, feeling color rise to her cheeks. He looked so handsome, dressed in a pair of crisp blue jeans, and a button down white and blue pinstriped shirt, topped by a camel colored blazer. "I hope I'm fancy enough…"

"Meg, you are perfect," he assured her. "All eyes in the restaurant will be stuck on you. I will have to fight off the other men with a stick.

Meg giggled sweetly, as they made their way to dinner.

The restaurant was lively, with dark wooden tables and green cushions on varnished mahogany chairs. Lights were low, music was playing, and all around them, people were laughing and having a good time. Just being in the space made Meg smile.

After they placed their orders, Chris reached across the table and took Meg's hand once again as they made small talk. He told her that he was a neurologist at the local hospital, but since he was still a resident, he often wound up working rotation in the ER—which he was finding he really enjoyed. That was how he'd grown close to his best friend, Jenna, he explained.

She'd been a coworker, but he didn't really know her well, until she had a very bad car accident and wound up in a coma. He saw her through that, and when she woke up they remained friends. Now, she was just about to have a baby and he couldn't wait to meet his little nephew for the first time. "Of course, I know I will be his absolute favorite person in the world! Jenna knows it too!"  
"She's your _friend_?" Meg had a flash back to the fiery haired woman she had seen Chris with at the hospital on the first day they had arrived in the 21st century. She had assumed she was his wife!

"Yes, a very close friend. Why?"

Meg laughed sheepishly, "I told you that I'd noticed you one day when I was at the hospital. I think I may have seen you with her. Red hair? Very pregnant?"

"Yes," Chris nodded, "Jenna has reddish blond hair. And like I said, she's going to pop my little nephew out any day now."

"When I saw you with her, I had assumed she was your wife."

A strange expression came over Chris's face just for a moment. "No, definitely not my wife. She's not interested in me that way at all. She's still in love with the baby's father—even though he left her before he even knew she was pregnant."

"Oh no!" Meg exclaimed. "That's awful."

"Yeah. He was an awful person—left her for another woman. But Jenna's strong and independent. She'll be fine on her own. Plus I'll be there to help teach the kid how to play baseball."

Meg smiled, beginning to wonder if maybe there was a little more than friendship between Chris and this Jenna, until he said, "She's the one who told me to go ask you out, you know."

Meg cocked her head at him and asked, "What do you mean?"

"When I told her about you …"

"You _told_ her about me?" Meg asked, once again feeling a blush stretch out across her cheeks.

"Well," Chris answered sheepishly, "Yes, I did."

"What did you say?"

"I told her about the radiant beauty who fainted into my arms, but then had to quickly run home before it got dark. She was like Cinderella running away from the ball—perhaps not actually royalty, but pretty enough to be a princess anyway."

Meg stared at Chris wide-eyed and speechless. She could barely squeak out a quiet "oh," in response to his flattering words. He thought her beautiful? He thought her radiant? She could hardly believe it, but she could tell he was telling her the truth by the sincere way his blue eyes were staring into hers.

After a moment of Meg not making more than a minimal response, Chris asked, "So what about you, Meg? You've been listening to me prattle on about my life all night long. Tell me about yourself."

That question brought Meg down to earth quickly, because really, what was there to tell him that would not make her sound crazy? "Oh, um, I'm never very good at talking about myself," she began awkwardly. "What would you like to know, Chris?"

"Well…how long have you been living in New York?"

"Oh, we've only recently arrived, actually." Meg felt confident that she could answer this question honestly, at least. "We've been here about two weeks, I guess."

"Where are you from originally?"

And the questions were starting to get a bit harder to answer. "Paris," Meg answered, taking a sip from the coke Chris had ordered for her. It was very sweet, and a good diversion from the panic that was beginning to build in her heart. How was she going to talk about herself without ruining everything? Didn't he know _he_ was so much more interesting anyway?

"Oh, Paris!" he said, excitedly. "I've never been there, but my great-great-great grandparents were from Paris. I hear it's lovely!"

"It is," she nodded and smiled a bit sadly.

"So what brings you to America? Are you visiting family? Going to university?"

"No, I…" it was hard to answer his question, since she herself did not really know why she was here or how she got here. But she answered him by saying, "Currently I live with my mother and step father—and his friend Erik—over at the Hotel. I…" she took a deep breath, "I work as a cleaning lady." She was a little embarrassed to admit it, even though he already knew, since he had seen her in her uniform and had spoken with the manager.

"Oh, well. . ." he began.

Before Chris could make any further comment, Meg hurriedly added, "I used to be a dancer."

Chris's eyes lit up at that revelation. "Really?"

"Yes," she nodded vigorously. "I was a part of the Corps du Ballet at the Palais Garnier in Paris."

His eyes squinted, "I didn't realize they called it that anymore—after it burned to the ground back in the 1800s."

Burned to the ground. The Palais Garnier burned to the ground. Her home—her whole world—destroyed. Meg felt her throat go completely dry and swallowed before she spoke. Still her voice was quiet and hollow when she said, "It's a nickname for the building some of the performers still occasionally use."

"Ah…" Chris said, apparently satisfied with her answer. "Well, have you done any dancing since you arrived in New York?"

"No." Meg shook her head, sadly.

Chris looked at his date, and saw her demeanor deteriorating quickly. She seemed somehow homesick, because he noticed that the sadness in her eyes had appeared as soon as they had started talking about Paris, and the Opera House, and dancing.

Dancing!

"I have a wonderful idea of where to go next, Meg!" Chris announced, flagging down their waitress to ask for the check.

"Oh, Chris," Meg answered, her melancholy mood making her feel a little disinterested in continuing the date. "Maybe I should just go home. It's getting a bit dark out, and …"

"You're going to turn into a pumpkin again?" he interrupted quickly, once again alluding to her as Cinderella. Meg laughed despite herself, and he continued, "Please, Meg. You seem to be a bit homesick. Allow me the chance to make you feel better."

"Alright," she agreed, and once they paid the check, he took her again by the hand and led her to yet another part of NY.

The building they stopped in front of had loud thumping music spilling out of it. People who were dressed far more lavishly than she was were crowding around the entrance, which was being guarded by a large man in a suit and dark glasses. Chris pulled her gently toward the door, but Meg stopped him, her anxiety getting the better of her. "I … I can't go in there."

"Why ever not, Meg?" Chris asked, surprised.

"W…w…well…" she stuttered. "Just look at how they're dressed! They're so fancy. I'm not …"

"Meg," Chris said, looking directly into her eyes and smiling. "I'm not planning on taking your clothes dancing. I want to go dancing with _you_. And I think you're perfect, just the way you are."

"Dancing?" Meg asked, intrigued.

"Yes, Meg," Chris giggled. "This is a dance club, and I thought, since you are a dancer, that it might be a nice thing to do together."

"I _would_ love that. It's been too long."

"Then, let's go, Cinderella." He turned them toward the building again, pulling her close to him. "We don't want to be too late for the ball."

Chris led them to the door and nodded politely at the doorman, before ushering Meg inside. The atmosphere within the walls of the club was dark—even though Meg felt as if she were being assaulted by brightly colored lights, flashing from just about everywhere. There were people—so many people—and they were moving and flailing about in the middle of the floor. The music was so loud that Meg could hardly discern anything distinct about it, except a low, insistent thumping sound—like the sound she had heard outside, but much, much stronger.

Chris was saying something, but she couldn't hear him above the driving sounds of the music.

"What?" She practically shouted in order to be heard.

"I said," he shouted back with a laugh, "Let's dance."

"What? To this?" Meg asked horrified, not sure how one _would_ go about dancing to this type of music. "I … I don't know how."

Chris laughed, "What do you mean, you don't know how? You said you were a dancer."

"A ballerina, Chris." She said to clarify. "I know arabesques and pirouettes. Nothing like this!"

"You know how to do the hard stuff," he waved his hand to dismiss her worries. "Dancing to this stuff is easy."

"Easy?"

"Yeah! There are no real moves. You just kind of toss your body about into a barely controlled chaos, and accept the fact that you're going to look ridiculous. But it's alright, because that everyone else looks just as ridiculous. See?" Chris immediately started bopping up and down, bending at his knees, and moving his shoulders and head in beat to the music. Meg couldn't help but laugh at loud at the sight. "See, I told you, Meg. Utterly ridiculous! But it's still so much fun." He extended a hand out to her. "Come on. Why don't you give it a try?"

Meg felt incredibly self-conscious, but she started to sway a bit with the music. "That's it, Meg," Chris said, his smile growing brighter, "Just let yourself feel the music."

Drawn in by Chris's infectious joy, Meg felt tension begin to melt from her body. She found herself following Chris's example, and began to bop away.

"Wonderful Meg!" Chris cheered her on. "That's the way. Keep it up, now."

Meg threw her head back and laughed, as her body moved more and more to the rhythm. "This is absurd!" she giggled.

"It's ludicrous!" Chris agreed, giggling himself now, as he saw joy lighting up Meg's eyes.

"Outrageous!"

"Preposterous!"

"But soooo much fun!" Meg laughed out loud now, as she twirled herself around on the dance floor, and Chris could not help but laugh with her, as she took his breath away.

Later, much later, Chris and Meg walked home, arm in arm along the riverfront.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" he asked her, as her smile lit up the night sky.

"Oh Chris," Meg gushed, still so elated from the evening dancing. "It was a wonderful night—such good food, such wonderful company…"

"Such ridiculous dancing!" Chris added in, suddenly taking her hand and whirling her around in a spin, causing her to laugh even harder.

"Yes," she agreed, moving a little closer when she was done spinning. "The dancing was quite bizarre. But it was exhilarating."

Chris looked down at their hands that were still joined, and whispered. "I did miss one thing tonight at the club."

"Oh yes?" Meg asked, surprised, since he had looked like he was having such a good time. "What was that?"

"I missed slow dancing with you," he said softly, his blue eyes gazing directly into hers. All the music was so fast."

Meg felt the color once again rising to her cheeks, but still managed to place her free hand on Chris's shoulder and say, "Well, I can hum slowly. Shall we dance?"

Chris smiled at her and placed his hand on the small of her back. Holding their joined hands to his chest, they began to sway, as Meg hummed a sweet, soft melody that was downright intoxicating to Chris's ears. Swept away by the wonderful evening, Chris leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Meg's lips. It lingered just long enough to be more than a peck, but there was nothing forward, nothing threatening—simply sweetness, and Meg felt her insides flutter.

When Chris pulled away, his eyes were soft, and his voice was tender. "I've really enjoyed spending time with you tonight, Meg. I'd love to see you again."

"I'd really love that too, Chris."

"Tomorrow night? We can do whatever you'd like. We can eat, we can dance, take a walk, see a movie—whatever you wish."

"All of that sounds wonderful. As long as we're spending time together, I know it will be a wonderful evening."

Smiling warmly, Chris could not help placing one more soft kiss on her lovely lips. "Come on, Cinderella," he whispered to her huskily. "Let's get you home."

Meg rested her head against Chris's chest as he put an arm around her shoulder and cuddled her close. Neither of them noticed the man in the shadows watching their display of affection, but Erik certainly noticed them. He took a deep breath to try to control the anger that was bubbling up inside him. He remembered the night he saw Jenna crying by the river, and all the nights since then, when she would stand out here alone. Was this why? Was her new man the type to step out on her with the first attractive young woman he stumbled upon? And how was it that he had stumbled upon Meg?

He could tell that the two young lovebirds had not seen him, but he had seen everything, and he would be dealing with Meg. He knew Madame Khan would be very interested in knowing what mischief her daughter was up to when she went out into the night.

**OH, Meg. Meg, Meg, Meg. We're being a bit deceptive, aren't we? **

**BUT, Chris is a wonderful date. How fun was he? I want to dance with Prince Charming! And he KISSED her! Swoon . . . thud.**

**Unfortunately, Erik saw! A little heads up-for those of you who have been wanting to kick him up to this point, you MAY want to get your steel toed boots on for tomorrow's chapter. Just sayin'!**

**Please review (IF you can, ha ha!) and let me know what you think!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you all again for sticking with me through FF's wonky technical difficulties. Hopefully, they are behind us. Now, several of you have predicted that Erik will behave badly in this chapter. Let's see how right you are!**

CH 9

Nadir pulled his wife closer against him as they snuggled in bed, just about ready to fall off to sleep, after a night filled with pleasure and romance. "Mmmmmm, Antoinette," he murmured, "You certainly have raised a very smart daughter to suggest this."

"Yes, indeed," Antoinette agreed, with a satisfied sigh. "She takes after her mother."

"Well then," Nadir joked, leaning in to give his wife a quick kiss on the lips, "She has many talents."

Antoinette smiled and kissed him back. "I love you, dear husband," she whispered, as she settled her head on his chest.

"And I love you, dear wife," Nadir mummed, as he settled in to let slumber take him.

"Do either of you have any idea what your daughter has been doing?" Erik's voice bellowed as the door crashed open. With a gasp, Antoinette bolted upright, pulling the blankets up to her neck.

"Erik!" Nadir exclaimed, feigning a calm demeanor with a tight smile. "How pleasant to see you. What brings you to our little private hideaway?"

"I have come, Daroga" Erik seethed, "To let you in on your daughter's little secret."

"What are you talking about?" Antoinette asked, immediately worried.

"Yes, well, you obviously bring glad tidings," Nadir commented sarcastically, irritation coloring his tone. "But you see, we were just about ready for bed."

"Yes, I can see that, Daroga," Erik responded with disgust, gesturing to the clothing strewn all over the floor. "Looks as if you've been in bed for awhile now—in a room that is not your own. And who has been supervising your daughter while you've been canoodling here all night?"

"Mind your tone, Erik." Nadir warned, as he saw the color creep into Antoinette's cheeks. "This is my wife. And Meg is a grown woman. She doesn't need supervision."

"Meg is in our room, probably sleeping, Erik," Antoinette answered, confused.

"Oh, do you think so, Madame?" he sneered at her.

"Erik…" Nadir began as he saw Erik's ire turn toward Antoinette.

"What is going on, Erik?" Antoinette interrupted her husband, in concern for her daughter. "Has something happened to Meg?"

"Oh no, Madame." Erik shook his head sarcastically, "Nothing has happened to Meg that she herself did not wish for. It is what she is doing to someone else."

"Erik, will you stop being so damned cryptic and tell us what's going on?" Nadir demanded, completely losing his cool. "Any hope we had for relaxation is over now, thanks to you. And how did you find us anyway?"

"Did you really think Meg was the only one who was going to read the note you left on the dresser, telling her your whereabouts in case she needed you?" Erik shot back at Nadir. "But don't worry. She didn't need you, because Meg has been out this evening, doing some cavorting of her own, with a married man!"

"What?" Antoinette shrieked in shock.

"Erik, what is the meaning of this?" Nadir demanded. "Coming in here and upsetting my wife with your completely unfounded accusations. Meg is a good girl. She would do no such thing."

"It was hardly unfounded, Daroga!" Erik spat back. "I saw it with my own two eyes. I was out on my nightly walk, and I saw Meg and a man down by the river, walking hand in hand, kissing."

Antoinette's hand went to cover her face, nearly losing her blanket in the process. Luckily, Nadir adjusted it just in time to preserve his wife's modesty. "But what is this nonsense about him being a married man, Erik? It sounds like you just saw her out enjoying a gentleman's company—which is bad enough, without her mother's permission—but hardly …"

"I know the man, Daroga," Erik flashed Nadir with a knowing look.

All at once understanding washed over Nadir's features. "You don't mean. . ." Nadir stammered into Erik's glare. "Surely it couldn't be. . .But how does Meg even know him?"

"Know who, Nadir?" Antoinette asked, surprised by her husband's apparent knowledge on the subject.

"I do not know," Erik answered. "But I do know that we need to deal with her impertinence. Once that is done, I will deal with him. He cannot think that it is right for him to be stepping out with other women when Jenna is pregnant and waiting for him at home."

"What?" Antoinette shrieked again, thoroughly confused. "Who is Jenna? Nadir," she turned and touched her husband on the arm. "What is going on?"

Nadir closed his eyes and clenched his jaw at Erik's words, which made everything so much more complicated. "Antoinette, it is a very long story."

"Yes," Erik interjected, earning him an icy glare from his friend. "One that we don't have time for now, since we have to deal with Meg. Now, what are you waiting for?"

"We're waiting for you to get out of the room!" Nadir answered, his voice raised in aggravation. "So that we can get dressed!"

Erik looked at them both, suddenly remembering what he must have just interrupted, and let out a disgusted huff. "Shameless," he hissed, as he turned and began to make his way to the room to wait for Meg.

"Nadir…" Antoinette began.

"Look, dear," Nadir stopped her with a finger to her lips, "I will tell you everything, I promise. But right now, let's just get dressed and get back to the room. Whatever Meg has done, she does not deserve to deal with his unchecked drama alone."

* * *

Meg floated back up to her room, after ending her evening with Chris with a final goodnight kiss—one that neither of them had wanted to see end. Though his kisses were innocent, their sweetness was delicious, and Meg found herself wanting more and more of them. His lips had felt so soft on hers, so tender and gentle, and her insides had thrilled with excitement at the touch of them. But she would see him again tomorrow night, and there would be more time for laughing, and talking, and, she sincerely hoped, for kissing too.

With one last secret smile, Meg opened the door to her room.

"Where have you been, young lady?" her mother's frosty tone greeted her from inside.

Meg looked up to see her mother, Nadir and Erik all standing on the far side of the room, arms folded across their chests, waiting, it seemed, for her. Oh, this cannot be good, she thought to herself. Not good at all.

"Mother," she responded, coming all the way into the room and closing the door. "I did not expect you to be home."

"Obviously." Erik interjected.

Meg looked over at him quizzically, as Antoinette cleared her throat. "Meg, I did expect you to be home tonight. That's were you told me you were going to be."

"Well, I had a change of plans," Meg began to explain. "And I …"

"Decided to engage in a dalliance with a married man!" Erik interjected, cutting Meg off cold.

"What?" she cried.

"Erik!" Nadir exclaimed, shaking his head and covering his face with his hands. "Would you please shut up?"

"Meg, tell me where you were tonight," Antoinette asked, trying to regain control of the situation. "And who you were with."

Meg swallowed hard and took a deep breath before answering, "I met a man on my walk the other day, mother. He was very sweet and very kind and he asked me out to dinner. I accepted."

"You accepted more than dinner from him, Meg." Erik added, snidely.

"I swear, I am going to turn your lasso on you if you utter one more word!" Nadir informed Erik through clenched teeth.

Meg looked at Erik appalled, "Erik! What…"

"What Erik is saying—in his ever so gentlemanly way," Antoinette began, "—was that he saw you out tonight—kissing a man by the river."

"A man with a wife who is with child." Erik interjected.

"Where is that rope?" Nadir muttered, looking around the room for any sign of the Punjab Lasso. "I wonder if I can tie his mouth shut with it?"

Meg looked aghast between Erik and her mother. "Mother… Erik… WHAT are you talking about? Chris isn't married."

"Oh on a first name basis, are we?" Erik spat back.

"Well" Nadir interjected, "You said yourself that they were on a lip to lip basis, so…"

"Nadir!" Antoinette exclaimed, looking scandalized.

Nadir winced, realizing what he had just said, "Oh, Antoinette, I'm sorry," he held his hands up to his wife in a gesture of repentance before pointing to Erik, "It's him! His influence makes me say these things. Please forgive me …"

"Yes, Erik," Meg shot back at him a bit defensively now, leaving her mother and Nadir to handle their own little issue. "I am on a first name basis with him, and no, he's not married."

"I have reason to believe otherwise." Erik insisted.

"What reason?"

"I've seen him with his wife!" Erik informed her, heatedly. "And she is due to give birth any time now. What kind of man steps out on his heavily pregnant wife?"

"Heavily pregnant …" Meg muttered, and then to Erik, asked, "Erik, do you mean Jenna?"

Erik felt like the wind was taken out of him, hearing her name spoken by Meg. "How do you know of Jenna?" he asked with hollow voice.

"Who is this Jenna?" Antoinette asked again.

"I promise, Antoinette," Nadir reminded her. "Later."

"Jenna is Chris's best friend," Meg explained "—who is due to give birth to a baby any day. The baby's father left her—alone with both the kid and some medical issues. Since Chris is her friend, he helps her out—which is why we both saw him with her at the hospital on our first day here. But they're not married. And it's not his baby."

"They're not married?" Erik repeated.

"No." Meg assured him.

"And the babe is not his child?"

"No. Apparently, they do things differently in this day and age. Chris said the baby's father left her before she even knew she was pregnant. But she's still in love with him, and hasn't been involved with anyone else."

Was it true? Jenna's child did not belong to this youth who had taken Meg out for the evening? The baby's true father had abandoned her? How could any man lucky enough to have earned Jenna's love, ever be foolish enough to have abandoned her? Had it not been for the fact that she would have died if she'd stayed with him, Erik would never have dreamed of ever leaving her—much less when she was bringing his child into the world. But still, some foolish man. And now Chris is the one she leaned on.

"You are forbidden to see him." Erik said simply.

"What?" Antoinette asked in surprise.

"Huh?" was Nadir's response.

"Who are you," Meg asked, outraged, "to forbid me from doing anything? You are not my father."

"No," Erik agreed icily. "But you defied your mother to meet with him. Besides, Jenna may not be married to this Chris, but she is obviously close to him. She relies on him. You should not get in the way."

"You have no right to make decisions for me!" Meg shrieked at him.

"Meg…" Antoinette tried to get her attention, a bit concerned to see Meg talking to Erik that way.

"And who is this Jenna to you?" Meg continued, ignoring her mother's efforts. "Why do you care so much about her welfare?"

"Now, now, Meg," Nadir joined Antoinette, with a sheepish laugh, in trying to stop Meg from going down a very dangerous path with his friend.

Erik closed his eyes, and set his jaw, and suddenly, Meg knew. "It's her, isn't it?" Meg said, oblivious to both her mother and stepfather's attempts to save her from Erik's ire. "I've known there was some woman here in the 21st century that had some kind of hold on you, and now I know who it is. It's Jenna, isn't it?" Nadir and Antoinette both reached out for Meg's arm, and tried to pull her away from Erik, but she would not be stopped. "I have a question for you now, Phantom," she spat his old nickname at him contemptuously. "If you are so convinced that Jenna leans on Chris and no one should get in their way, then why are you interfering? Why are you holding on so tight? If you are so sure they belong together, maybe you ought to let go of whatever hold it is you have on her."

"Meg," Antoinette tried to reach her daughter once more, shocked to see her acting this way.

"And as for who I am allowed, and forbidden to see," Meg continued, addressing all of them this time. "I have told you before, I am an adult. And I will do whatever I want and see whomever I want whenever I want!" As she turned to storm out of the room, Antoinette grabbed her arm. "Where are you going, Meg?"

"Anywhere he's not!" she answered, trying to free her arm from her mother's hold.

"Then you need not go any further," Erik assured her, quietly, as he rose from the bed and walked out the door.

Once Erik had left the room, Meg was alone with her mother and stepfather. None of them, it seemed knew what to say, but it was clear that Antoinette and Meg desperately needed to talk.  
Nadir looked at his wife, and said quietly "Antoinette, I'm going to go make sure we got everything out of the other room. I'll leave you two to talk."

Antoinette simply nodded as he walked out the door. When mother and daughter were alone at last, Antoinette began, "Meg…"

"Mother," she interrupted, "if you are going to lecture me too about not seeing Chris because his friend is pregnant, I really don't need to hear that."

"It was not my intention to lecture you, Meg," Antoinette said simply, and her calm demeanor did much to relieve some of the tension Meg felt coursing through her. With a deep sigh, Meg collapsed onto the bed, sitting slumped over on the edge. Ayesha immediately jumped up with her, rubbing her head up against Meg's hand, in an attempt to comfort the girl. Antoinette quietly walked over and joined them, saying, after a moment, "It was my intention, however, to ask you why you lied to me. You orchestrated my whole evening with Nadir so that you could slip out for the evening undetected, didn't you?"

Meg closed her eyes and hung her head, her fingers absentmindedly rubbing the cat's soft fur. "Mother, I am sorry I lied."

"I'm glad you're sorry, Meg," her mother replied. "But I still want to know why."

"Because I knew you wouldn't want me to go spend an evening out with a man I had just met. Because I know you're worried about my welfare in this new city. Because I know you still think of me as a child."

"All of those things are true, Meg." Antoinette agreed calmly. "But I could not have stopped you, because, as you say, I know that you are a grown woman."

Meg thought for a moment, realizing her mother was right. "Again, Mother, I'm very sorry I lied. I will be more forthcoming in the future."

"Alright." Antoinette said quietly. A few more moments of awkward silence passed between them, during which time the only sound was the rumble of Ayesha's purrs. After a bit, Antoinette asked, "So what is this Chris like?"

Meg smiled, "Really, Mother? You really want to know?"

Antoinette smiled warmly, "Of course I do, darling. Even as a grown woman, you are still my child. I want to know about this man that sets my daughter's heart all aflutter."

Meg felt herself blushing and looked down into Ayesha's intent eyes. Apparently, the cat was also listening. "Well," she began, "He's very handsome, Mother. Very tall, blond, curly hair, blue eyes."

Antoinette smiled, "Oh, he reminds me of your father."

"I supposed he does look a bit like papa," she nodded. "But he looks even more like the Vicomte'."

"The Vicomte', really?" Antoinette asked, her eyes widening.

"Yes. But he's not. He's… he's a doctor."

"Ahh, an educated man." She smiled approvingly.

"Yes, quite educated—but also sweet, and funny, and he loves to dance! He treated me like a princess, Mother."

"As he should have." Antoinette nodded her approval. "And," she asked the question that had been on her mind, "he kissed you?"

Again, Meg felt herself blushing and inwardly cursed the fact that she embarrassed so easily. "Yes, Mother, he kissed me. But they were respectful kisses. He was a perfect gentleman, Mother, I promise."

Antoinette smiled, "And did you kiss him back?"

"Mreow?" Ayesha seemed to echo Antoinette's question.

Meg looked down and giggled a bit. "I did."

"Were you a perfect lady, Meg?" her mother teased.

"Mother!" Meg exclaimed. "What kind of question is that?"

"A good one," her mother responded. "You must remember that you are a lady, Meg. A maiden. I am not terribly familiar with the standards women hold themselves to these days, but you must never forget yours."

"I won't, Mother. And I don't think Chris is the kind of man who would expect me to." After a brief pause, she added, "He took me dancing, Mother!"

Annie looked at her surprised again, "Dancing!"

"Yes, and he made me laugh, Mother. And when I was with him, I felt so … alive!"

Annie nodded wisely once again. "It sounds like you had a wonderful time with him, Meg."

"I really did, Mother."

"Are you seeing him again?"

"Tomorrow night."

"I see," Annie nodded. "Well, then I have only one request."

"And what is that, Mother?"

"I would like to meet him. After all," she said, a mischievous twinkle coming to her eyes, "A man as handsome as the Vicomte' would be quite a sight to see."

"Mother!" Meg shrieked as the two dissolved into laughter.

As Nadir approached the room from outside, he heard cacophonous laughter, so he figured that any mother / daughter disputes had been settled, and it was safe to enter. Just as he put his hand on the doorknob, however, he overheard his wife ask the question, "So is he a good dancer?"

"Oh, Mother, he looked so ridiculous!" Meg answered with a giggle. "But so incredibly adorable."

"Oh, sweetie, your father always looked ridiculous when dancing. Nadir too, truth be told, but they are such incredible fun to watch."

"Oh, yes!" And the giggles started again.

Nadir took his hand away from the door and turned in his tracks. He thought it might be a really good idea to check that other room again—and give the girls a little more time to work things out.

* * *

Cloaked in darkness, and shrouded in shadows, Erik stared at the building across the street from where he stood. It was the same high rise he watched every night—the one that housed his heart. His Jenna.

Things were not as he had believed. If this Chris was to be trusted, Jenna was alone—unmarried, about to have a baby, and still harboring feelings for a man who had abandoned both her and their child. There was no husband. There was no lover. There was only Jenna and her child. This changed everything.

Erik stalked up to the front door and put his hand on the knob. He was going to go into this building, find the room where Jenna stayed, and tell her everything—that he too had passed through the secret door, that he loved her, and that he wanted to be with her more than anything. He would inform her that it didn't matter about the baby—he would gladly raise the child as his own if it meant he could spend the rest of his life loving her. This pain—this…insanity—ended tonight.

But Erik's hand hesitated on the doorknob. Whose pain? The question rang in his head. Whose insanity? Jenna might be alone, she might not be married, but did that mean she was hurting? She had a job, she had friends—at least one, very handsome friend, who, apparently, took wonderful care of her. Regardless of the state of her relationship, Jenna seemed to be doing just fine without him.

For all of her impertinence, and all of her gall, Meg's words came back to him. "Why are you interfering?" she had asked, and Erik now pondered the true answer to that question. Would it somehow make Jenna's life better, to be tied to a man who had to hide his appearance? Who was still so unfamiliar with the customs of this time? Who didn't have a penny to his name? Would this really be an improvement to Jenna raising her baby alone? "Maybe you ought to let go." Again, the wisdom in Meg's words came back to him, and he realized that Jenna really had moved on with her life without him. And maybe, it would be the best for her if he did too.

Erik removed his hand from the door and just stood there a silent moment more staring at the building in front of him. Behind that door lay the sum of his hopes and dreams—the promise of happiness, the assurance of a bright future. Behind that door lay his very heart and soul. Yet, turning from it, he took his first forlorn steps back toward the hotel. "I love you Jenna," he whispered into the night. "That is why I have to let you go."

Can I be the first to kick him? Please?

**OK, so he flipped-then MEG flipped (feisty little one, she is.) Then, after ignoring Meg through the whole story, Erik LISTENS to her, the one time he SHOULD ignore her! Will you even believe me if I say the end of this madness is near? MAAAAAAAAYBE even in a bonus chapter tonight?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Friday means bonus day! AND the chapter you've all been waiting for! Enjoy! :)**

CH 10

Jenna took a sip from her water bottle as Chris took his seat at the table. They were meeting in the cafeteria for a late afternoon break. It had been a busy day for both of them, but Jenna just could not let it end without hearing about Chris's evening with Meg. "Spill! How was your date?"

"The entire evening was amazing!" Chris admitted, grinning from ear to ear and setting down his coffee cup. "We had a wonderful dinner, and then went dancing. I discovered that Meg's a ballerina."

"A ballerina!" Jenna asked in awe. "Oh, how elegant! Does she dance professionally?"

"She used to, in Paris," he replied

"Paris?" Jenna asked, her voice trailing of at the end. Does everything in the world conspire to make her think about Erik? If it wasn't roses just strangely showing up on her doorstep, it was ballerinas from Paris.

"Yes, Paris. She and her family just moved here from there. She's working as a cleaning lady for now at the hotel where they're living, but she used to dance at the Palais Garnier."

Jenna set her water bottle down loudly on the table. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"No." Chris said, confused at her reaction. "Why?"

_Because that's where I left my heart, that's why!_ "No reason," Jenna fudged. "That just … seems like a pretty big deal. So…" she changed to subject quickly, "Tell me more about her."

"Well, she's sweet, she's funny, she has a great giggle, and she's oh _so_ lovely."

Jenna was warmed to see the glee on Chris's face as he enumerated the list of Meg's attributes. This was how he was supposed to be—happy, exuberant, joyful. This is what she never could have given him, no matter how hard she tried. She was so glad that he had decided to take her advice and ask this girl on a date. She only hoped that Meg wouldn't mind sharing Chris with her from time to time.

"You seem smitten," she told him with approval.

A slight blush rose to his cheeks as he confirmed, "I liked her very much, Jenna. Thank you for pushing me to go find her. You were right."

"As always," she winked. "But seriously, I'm happy you found someone that obviously gets you excited." She took another sip of her water, before raising her eyebrows and pointing at him. "I do believe you've been dazzled, my friend."

Chris looked at the only other woman who had dazzled him before. _Oh Jenna_, he thought. _I still wish it had worked out between us._ "Jenna," Chris reached out and took her hand from across the table. "I want you to know that this changes _nothing_ between us. I am still going to be there for you and the baby. You come _first_."

"I know that you will always be there for me, Chris," Jenna said, squeezing his hand. "You've proven that time and again. But, as much as I appreciate that, I want you to put _yourself_ first. And I think, right now, that means spending as much time as you can with Meg, and seeing what happens."

Chris smiled at her reaction, because he _knew_ those were the exact words that would come out of her mouth. Jenna was always so self-sacrificing that it was simply second nature to her to put another's happiness before her own. It was a quality that was going to make her an excellent mother. Still, he could not deny that he was excited to see where things would go with Meg, since the chemistry between them seemed pretty magical the night before.

"When are you seeing her again?" Jenna asked, when Chris remained silent.

"Tonight."

"Wow, Romeo," she jokingly patted him on the arm. "You work fast!"

"Not fast enough," he responded. "I miss her already."

"Awwww," Jenna squealed obnoxiously, reaching forward and ruffling his curls.

"You're so cute, you're gonna make me cry."

Chris grimaced at her reaction. "Knock it off, crazy woman!" he laughed, reaching

into his pocket as he felt his cellphone go off. Looking at the screen, Chris's face went from amusement to confusion to horror. "Oh damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn, _damn_! _No_!"  
"Good news?" Jenna asked, raising her eyebrows in response to Chris's tirade.

"I have to work the ER tonight." Chris told her, in disappointment. "There was a huge construction incident over at 10th and 46th. Lots of injuries—on their way _here_. Dr. Knowles called out sick, and it's my turn to cover for him. I'm not going to be able to see Meg after all."

"I'm sorry, Chris," Jenna said with genuine compassion in her voice. "I know you were really looking forward to it. But, she's got to know that, when dating a doctor, this kind of thing is likely to happen. Just call her and reschedule. Or maybe she could meet you here for your dinner break?"

The look of disappointment on Chris's face turned blank. He sat there, stonily silent, his jaw clenched, his lips tight, and his eyes not meeting hers.

"You still haven't gotten her phone number, have you?" Jenna asked him, as if she were stating a fact.

"No," was his one word reply.

Jenna shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm off in an hour. I will go give her the message that you cannot come tonight because of work. And then I will get her number _for_ you, since you seem utterly incapable of accomplishing that task, and you can _call her_ to reschedule!"

Chris sighed, annoyed at himself. "Jenna, you're pregnant. I don't want you traipsing around town just to deliver a message for me—especially since the hotel's right near the accident. There's going to be a major commotion in that part of town."

"Oh don't worry," she retorted, "After today, I'll never have to do it again, because you will have her _phone number_!" She laughed, taking his hand again, and said sweetly. "Seriously, though, Chris, you've done so much for me. Don't you know I would do anything for your happiness? Besides, I'm excited about meeting the little ballerina who stole my best friend's heart! And don't even worry about the accident. I'll just take an alternate route."

Chris looked at the twinkle in her eyes, and was reminded why he fell so in love with her in the first place. "You know, I wonder if I should be insulted that the woman I've been in love with for the better part of a year is doing all she can to set me up with another girl."

"Nope," she said, patting his hand and rising from the table. "You've finally come to your senses, and realizing that we are perfect as friends."

Shaking his head back and forth, Chris added, "Jenna, you know there's a part of me that's always going to love you, right?"

She nodded, with a crooked grin. "That's the part I'm going to be counting on for baby sitting and diaper changes!" With a wink, she turned to go finish out her shift, so she could deliver Chris's message.

* * *

Erik looked at the card he still held in his hand. He had been staring at it for what seemed like hours, turning it between his fingers, tapping it on the small writing desk in their room. Nadir, Antoinette, and Meg had been out this morning, working diligently on their daily tasks, by the time Erik had returned. He had spent the night wandering New York, pondering Meg's words, _"Maybe you ought to let go."_

Of course, it was impossible. There was no way he could live a minute of his day without thinking of her. The ache in his chest, where his heart should be, was a constant reminder of her absence. But he knew that she had gone on with her life since her return. She had a job. She had a baby on the way, and she had someone who cared for her—even if they were not romantically involved. She _had_ been in love—in love enough to create the child she carried within her—and he… he had been nothing at all since she left.

He had accomplished nothing but to mope, and brood, and sulk—existing, but never living. And that was not what she wanted for him. He knew that she had been proud of him—that she had wanted him to live out in the open, to share his talents with the world. What would she say if she knew that since she left him, he had barely touched his piano—hadn't written a single note? What would she think to know that he was hiding here, in a decrepit hotel, performing meager tasks for his supper, just because it happened to be the first building they had walked into that first night? What would she think if she knew that he tolerated this truncated existence simply because it meant he could be closer to her?

_"Go to her!_" she had always encouraged him when it came to Christine. _"Show her yourself as you really are, not as a ghost or an angel, but as a man." _ Last night, he had come so close to doing just that. He had been so ready to open that door and show Jenna that he was there. But would she have even wanted him? He wasn't the man she'd fallen in love with—the composer, the builder, the scholar. No, since she left, he had not been that man at all. He had truly been the specter that everyone had thought him to be back at the opera house. He lingered by the river because it had once brought her to him. He haunted the grounds of her apartment building, hoping to catch a glimpse. Since he had sent Jenna back, he _had_ been living as a phantom, merely enduring his faded existence.

What good would it have done to go to Jenna and show himself to her as a man for her to only have seen a ghost? And what damage would it have done for her to see him standing there before her, and turn him away?

_No_, Erik realized, as he closed his eyes against that notion. _He could never recover from that. _ He somehow had to find a way to start living again—to be the man Jenna once made him wish to be. But he knew he couldn't do it here. He couldn't live in a city knowing she was so close, and yet _still_ a lifetime away. It was time.

With a deep breath, Erik picked up the receiver to the phone that was next to him on the desk. Looking at the card again, and remembering to first push the button "9", he dialed the numbers listed in sequential order. A low buzzing sound emanated once…twice on the line, before he heard a nasal female voice answer, "Hello, you've reached Big A's construction, office of Mr. Vincent Adolfo. This is Irene speaking. Can I help you?"

Erik paused for a moment before answering, "Yes, I wish to speak to Mr. Adolfo."

"May I tell him who's calling?" the nasally voice asked.

"You may tell him Batman is calling. It is time to request payment on a debt."

* * *

"Ugh," Jenna muttered, wiping the perspiration from her brow. "Maybe I should have hailed a cab." It was hot, and Jenna was beginning to feel a cramp in her side from walking. Truly the hotel was not that far from the hospital—or from her own apartment, for that matter—but the heat was not making it any easier on her nine-month-pregnant body to make the journey. _Maybe Chris is right,_ she thought_. Maybe I really do need to start taking it easy. The baby could be here any time now. He or she deserves a well-rested mama, not one who is exhausted from running herself ragged right up to the onset of labor. _She took a deep breath and kept walking, resolving to call her supervisor about maternity leave when she got home. She just had to deliver this message for Chris first. Then she could go home and rest.

When she got to the address, past all the sirens and flashing lights from the construction accident nearby, she looked up at the building before her with a little grimace. "Oh, honey," she said to herself. "We've got to get you dancing again, so you can afford to live somewhere other than this hell hole." When her mind turned to more romantic notions, she thought, _Of course, another way to get out of this place is to marry Chris and make him as happy as he was this morning for the rest of his life_.

Hearing her own thoughts, she shook her head. "Slow your roll, hormones," she scolded herself. "Let's go meet this girl, before helping them pick out china."

Jenna entered the lobby and went right up to the slovenly looking manager who was reading at the desk. Clearing her throat sharply, so that he could not continue to disregard her, she said, "Excuse me, but I am looking for one of your cleaning ladies. Her name is Meg."

Perturbed, the manager looked up from his magazine. "That's a lot of people who come in here looking for her. What do I look like? Her keeper?"

"Sir," Jenna responded in the sweetest tone she could muster, "you don't really want me to tell you what you look like, now, do you?" When the man just looked at her shocked, she continued, "Now, in case you missed it, I'm nine months pregnant. I literally do not have the time or energy to stand here and make small talk with you until you finally tell me what room she's in—because we both know in the end, that you will be doing just that. Now, tell me her room number, or I'll just have to go knocking on every door in the place. I'm sure that won't make your other patrons very happy, now will it?" She asked, smiling at him tightly, with a hand on her hip.

Looking mightily annoyed at her little tirade, the manager simply said, "Room 305. Stairs to the left."

"Oh," Jenna said, cocking her head to the side and putting a hand on her mountainous belly, "I know you're going to let me use the staff elevator. You wouldn't make a pregnant woman walk up three flights of stairs."

Rolling his eyes, he pointed, "Down the hall, right behind you."

"Thank you," she smiled sweetly, before turning to walk down the hall.

* * *

It was done. Erik placed the receiver back in its cradle. He had spoken to Vincent, and explained his desires, and in about a week's time, four new identities would be delivered. The identities would be accompanied with several thousand dollars in cash—something Vincent was throwing in, from the bottom of his heart, to get them started on their new lives. And then it would be finished. They would leave New York for someplace new.

Of course, he had not told the others yet, but he knew they would follow. With cash in hand, they would be able to do much better for themselves than living in this hellhole of a hotel. Meg might prove something of a problem, now that she seemed to have her heart set on the young man with whom she had spent the previous evening—but he was certain Antoinette would find a way to make her get in line. They would move from here and start their lives over yet again in another city of their choosing. And Erik would try to learn to live again, instead of barely tolerating existence.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. Had the Persian forgotten his key again? Although he had half a mind to leave him out there, Erik rose and quietly made his way to the door.

When he opened the door, he was greeted with a gasp loosed from rosy lips rounded in surprise. Tears sprang to the most beautiful eyes in the world, and hands that once held his very heart were trembling before him. "E…e…erik?"she asked in sheer disbelief, as she reached forward and lightly touched his arm, as if to check that he was real. Her hand sliding shakily upward, she tentatively cupped his cheek.

"Yes, Jenna," he stuttered, her face becoming blurry through the tears in his own eyes. "I'm here," he rasped, as he turned his cheek into her hand, relishing the feeling of her skin on his. "Oh, My Jenna, I'm here."

Tears spilled down her cheeks, as she took a step forward, but then became a bit wobbly on her feet. When he saw her eyes close, Erik reached out and caught her, just before she collapsed to the ground.

**Well, There it is! Jenna is back in Erik's arms. Yes, I know she's unconscious, but that's beside the point! **

**Now you must know there is going to be some explaining to do. But at least they are back together -no more hiding!**

**also in this chapter, we got to see how Chris feels about Meg. And to see Jenna rail on him about STILL not getting Meg's number. (not that she had one to give him!). AND now you know why it's a good thing to have a mobster in your pocket. They come in handy.**

**please review and let me know what you think!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm glad you all enjoyed the bonus chapter. :)**

**OK, Erik. You've got Jenna back. NOW, lets see if you can wake her UP, LOL. So that you can explain to her just what the heck is going on!**

CH 11.

"Jenna, my darling," she heard the mellifluous voice, slightly edged with concern, from somewhere off in the distance. The world was dark and fuzzy around her, and she was pretty sure she was floating. "Jenna, my love, wake up." There was a tapping on her cheek, gentle, but persistent, and it was drawing her in, nearer, closer to that voice that she had heard so often in her dreams—singing to her, whispering to her, loving her. "Jenna, sweetheart, I'm here," the voice implored her. "Come back to me, Jenna. Come back to your Erik."

Suddenly, Jenna realized she was on the ground. No… not entirely on the ground—someone was holding her. Instinctively she knew that the world around her would no longer be so dark if she would only open her eyes.

Slowly, she felt her lids flutter open, and she was met with the most beautiful sight in the world. A beloved face, half covered with a mask of white, stared back at her with tearful eyes. Those eyes—one a striking, icy blue, the other so rich a brown, she felt as if she could see forever in its depths—gazed at her with so many emotions. There was concern there, and disbelief, but there was also love—so strong and true—glistening behind the tears.

"Erik?" she whispered again, still staring at him in astonishment, reaching up once more to feel him with her trembling hands—his cheek, his jaw, his chest—anywhere, just to know that he was there. "Are you real?"

"Yes, my Jenna," he answered, and she could see his lips curl up into a smile, as he remembered a moment when he had asked her the same question. "I'm here, and I'm real."

"But…" she asked, shaking her head in confusion, "How?"

"There was an explosion at the opera house, Jenna," he told her calmly. "I don't know how or why, but somehow the door opened again. _Your_ door, Jenna. We had a choice—to either go through it, or stay there and perish. So we ran through, not knowing what was going to happen. And we found ourselves here."

Jenna listened to Erik's story, and of course none of it made sense. But then again, nothing had made sense to her when she had found herself in his lair either. One word in his tale did stick out, however. _We_.

She struggled to right herself, and though he was loath to let go of her, Erik released her from his embrace. When she was sitting across from him, staring steadily at the floor, she asked, "And where's Christine?"

Reaching out to tip her chin up so she had to face him, he said, "Christine is away on her honeymoon with the Vicomte'. She was not at the Garnier when it fell."

Jenna's eyes locked with his once again. "But I thought that you …"

"I know you did, Jenna," Erik interrupted her before having to hear the falsehood he told her spill once again from her lips. "Of course you did, because I told you I was in love with her. But I _lied_, Jenna. I lied."

"You lied?" she whispered with hollow voice, again shaking her head in disbelief. "But, why?"

"Your health depended on it, Jenna. Your life," he told her, his eyes begging her to understand.

"My health depended on you _lying_ to me?" She asked, not following.

"Things were _happening_ to you, Jenna." His voice was urgent, begging her to see his reasoning. "Your stitches just disappeared. You started having headaches and fainting spells for no reason. And the convulsion, Jenna," he shuddered a bit as he recalled that most terrifying night. "I thought I had _lost_ you," he revealed, his voice cracking a bit with emotion. But he added, breathlessly. "I was _afraid_, Jenna. I was so afraid that if you stayed with me you were going to die."

"So you told me you were in love with Christine because you were afraid for my life?" she still looked confused. "I don't understand . . ."

"I figured out how to open the door." He said, plainly. "It was a _liminal_ door, Jenna—one that connected two realities. You existed, for the time being, in both, but you had to choose the reality in which you wished to remain. I had to make you want to leave me, Jenna, and reclaim your life here, because I was afraid that if you didn't, you would lose your life in _both_ realities. And I never could have borne that, Jenna. I could never lose you like that."

Tears began to stream down her face. "You lost me anyway, Erik. I told you I loved you, and you said you loved Christine."

"I _told_ you, Jenna. I _lied_. Please believe me," he begged, "I _never_ loved Christine. I only said that so that you could live." He had tears in his own eyes now. "I wanted so badly for you to live—even if it meant living without me."

"But it _wasn't_ living without you, Erik." Jenna sobbed. "I missed you every minute of every day. I _ached_ for you Erik. I _hurt_."

Erik closed the small distance between them and wrapped her in his arms. "I'm sorry, Jenna," he whispered, holding her tightly against him. "I am so sorry." Erik felt her arms closing around him, squeezing him with all her might.

"Don't leave me again, Erik," she pleaded into his chest. "I beg you."

"I swear, Jenna, I will never leave you," he vowed, his own tears spilling down his cheeks. "I love you so much."

"I love you, Erik," she cried, "Oh God, I love you too."

They held each other close, neither saying another word, each just drinking in the other's presence, as their tears began to dry, and their breathing steadied. When they had both calmed down, Erik loosed his hold on Jenna, just a bit, so that he could look at her. Aqua eyes puffy and rimmed with red, cheeks streaked with tearstains, hair wildly disheveled, she was still the most beautiful woman in the world to him, and nothing would ever change that.

"Jenna," he whispered, as he reached out to smooth her hair. "I never thought I'd have the chance to tell you I love you. After you left, I screamed it to the lake, hoping somehow you would hear me. And then, when we arrived here, I would stand outside your apartment and . . ."

"Wait a minute," she held up her hand to stop him. "You would stand outside my apartment?"

"Yes, almost every night."

"Every night?" she repeated, her voice trailing off as she spoke the second word. "How long have you been here?"

"Only a couple weeks," he told her.

"_Weeks?_" she asked, tears pooling again in her eyes. "And you didn't come to me?"

"Jenna, I _wanted_ to go to you. But I didn't want to interfere."

Her eyes narrowed, "Interfere? With what?"

"Well, when we first came here, we landed at the hospital."

"At the hospital…"

"Yes, and I saw you with Chris."

"Chris?" she asked, her voice getting louder. "How do you know Chris?"

"Meg told me his name."

"Meg?" she asked, shaking her head until realization hit her like a brick. "You mean _Chris's _Meg?" _Of course he means Chris's Meg, Jenna! _her mind scolded her_. You knocked on that door expecting to see her. _

"Meg did spend the evening with Chris last night," Erik conceded, "But I would hardly call her his. She is Antoinette's daughter and the Persian's stepdaughter."

Jenna's eyes were wide once again. "Nadir got married?"

"A lot has happened since you left the lair." Erik replied.

"Apparently, a lot has happened since you got here too," she replied, irritation beginning to color her tone. "You _saw_ me at the hospital, and you didn't come to me? And then you found out where I lived? How did you do that, by the way?"

"I followed you home from the river on the night we arrived, and every night since. I wanted to make sure you would be safe."

"You followed me …" Jenna closed her eyes and shook her head. "Erik, _how_ could you have not come to me? You had every opportunity. How could you not have saved me from this agony a little sooner?"

"You did not seem to be in agony, Mademoiselle."

"Oh, don't you _dare_ Mademoiselle me now, Erik!" Jenna shot back in anger.

"Alright, _Jenna_, the reason I didn't come to you sooner is because I saw you with Chris, and I mistakenly assumed he was your husband, or at the very least, the father of your child." Jenna gasped in shock, and recoiled from him a little bit. Noticing her distress, he continued, reaching for her hand. "But don't worry, Jenna. I know now that that's not true. And I promise you, it doesn't matter to me."

Jenna's eyes narrowed again, "What doesn't matter to you?"

"The fact that you are carrying another man's child. I will happily raise the baby as my own, if it means being with you."

Jenna's response was a loud slap across Erik's face. As he recoiled from the unexpected blow, she rose to her feet. "How could you?" she shouted, glaring down at him, tears of anger spilling from her eyes.

Holding a hand to his smarting cheek, Erik asked, "Jenna, what do you mean?"

Bending slightly over, she railed, "How could you possibly think that I had slept with another man? Do you truly think so little of me Erik, that you assume I would let another man touch me? Didn't you hear me when I said I was in agony? I wasn't lying, Erik.

"When I first woke up from the coma, I thought I was crazy. I went through my life wondering if I had been in love with a figment of my imagination—with a man who had never been more than a dream. But real or illusion, it didn't stop me from wanting you, from _longing_ for you. Even when I was sure—when I KNEW I would never see you again—Erik I couldn't stop yearning.

"I _had_ another chance at love, Erik. Chris thought he was in love with me for a time. He's a good man, Erik, with a kind heart and a gentle soul. And no matter how much I wished to be able to return his feelings, I couldn't—because I was still so in love with _you_. A man I would never see again. A man who told me he was in love with another woman! But still, I could never let you go." Jenna burst again into tears, and just stood there, hands covering her face, as her body was wracked with sobs.

It broke Erik's heart anew to see her so distraught and to know that, once again, he had been to cause of so much agony. "I'm sorry, Jenna," he whispered, rising to his feet. Walking over to her, and putting his hands on her shoulders, he added, "I never meant to doubt you. I'm so sorry. But, the baby…"

"_Is yours_," Jenna said, tearfully, meeting his gaze. "The baby is yours."

Erik's eyes widened in shock. "Mine, Jenna?" he whispered in amazement.

"_Yours_, Erik." Jenna confirmed, smiling at the pure wonder in his expression. As his gaze drifted to her swollen belly, she added, "Well, _ours_."

Erik slowly dropped to his knees so that his face was level with her rounded abdomen. "My baby," he murmured, placing his hands on either side of her stomach, and leaning forward, resting his head against it. "_Our_ baby."

Jenna could not hold back tears of joy, and she thought, for a fleeting moment, that if she did not stop crying, she was going to get dehydrated. Slowly, she lowered herself to her knees, so that she was once again eye level with Erik. "Yes, Erik," she whispered. "Our baby. And now we can raise him together—as a family."

"Our family," he agreed, nodding his head, and knowing that no joy in his life could possibly compare to this moment when he and the woman he loved were about to become a family—with a child. It was pure elation to know that they would be together for the rest of their lives, raising a child that had been created of their love. But that was when the horror hit.

"Jenna," he asked her, suddenly panicked. "What if our baby looks like me?"

A stern look came over her face, and she informed him, "This baby has been my whole life for the last nine months—my entire reason for getting out of bed in the morning.I don't care what he looks like. This baby is a part of you, and because of that, he will be perfect, and I will love him with my whole heart and soul. Just like I love his father."

Erik felt the joy swelling in his chest again. "Oh, my Jenna," he whispered to her, with a twinkle in his eyes. "I love you so much."

"And I love you, _my_ Erik." she whispered back. "With my whole heart."

"You _are_ my heart," he murmured in her ear, just before joining his lips to hers. They had each been waiting for this kiss for what seemed like a thousand years. They came, trembling, together, their arms folding around each other, their fingers tangling in one another's hair. When their mouths separated, it was only so that Erik could worship the length of her neck, with breathy, shuddering kisses. "Oh Jenna," he purred, as he drank in the scent of her hair, and tasted the sweetness of her skin. "I've dreamed of this."

"Erik," she moaned, breathlessly, arching her throat back to give him better access. "So have I."

"I missed you so much, my darling."

"I've _ached_ for you, Erik."

Their lips joined again, the passion and desire denied for so long, exploding inside them. Jenna wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel him against her, inside her, making love to her the way he did on the night they created their child. It had been far, _far_ too long.

But then, a searing pain struck her pelvic region, and Jenna felt a gush of wetness spill out of her. She broke the kiss and stiffened in Erik's arms, doubling over a bit, as he held her upright.

"Jenna, what is it," he asked in alarm. "What's happening?"

"It's the baby, Erik," she gasped out her answer, her voice strained in pain. "He's coming."

**DUN DUN DUUUUN!**

**Well, there you have it-All explained! And even though she didn't kick him, she did give him a good crack across the face. I think we all approved! But, of course, her love for him overcame her anger and she forgave him. Good thing too, because here comes baby!**

**Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you thought!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews! It is getting to be a party in here, with all of the confetti and bubbles flying all around! I'm glad you are all enjoying the reunion-but if I start seeing farm animals being brought into the mix, I'm gonna have to cut you off! LOL. J/K. **

**Ok, are we all ready to meet Erik's child? Hope so, because baby's comin! :) **This is a chapter that deals with child birth. I don't think I crossed any lines here, but I just wanted to warn you, in case anyone easily get squeamish.****

CH 12

Erik looked at her as if she had just grown another head, and his already pale complexion was downright ashen. "The baby…is…coming?" he repeated, making sure he had heard her.

"Yes, Erik," Jenna's scrunched up with a groan, when another sharp pain shot through her abdomen. "He's coming. Now!"

"Well…" Erik looked around, as if a solution to what to do could somehow be found in the empty hotel room. "I…i…isn't there some way we can stop him?"

"No, Erik!" Jenna growled at him through her pain. "My water broke. We can't stop the baby now," she insisted, through another crippling pain.

Hearing her words, Erik began to notice a wetness at his knees. He looked at the floor beneath Jenna, and sure enough, he noticed that there was fluid everywhere—adding stains to the already grimy carpet, and seeping into his pants. He was at a total loss. Here the love of his life was lying helpless in his arms, laboring to give birth to his baby, and he had absolutely no idea what to do. He was usually so resourceful, so quick thinking. He had handled time travel—twice—with what he liked to consider grace and aplomb. But holding Jenna in his arms right now, watching the suffering on her face as her body strained to bring forth their child, he felt powerless to help.

"Jenna," he asked her desperately. "What do I do?"

Between labored breaths, she forced out, "Call 9…1…1… ERIK." His name was torn from her lips as a scream, as more contractions wracked her body, coursing through her back this time.

"But, Jenna," Erik responded with shaky voice, "I have to put you down to get to the phone."

"Then … _do it_!" she insisted. "We need an ambulance. The baby is coming."

Erik looked down at the floor they were kneeling on. The thought of placing Jenna down on the filthy carpet did not appeal to him at all. B…b…but" he said, nervously, "You'd get wet."

"My God, Erik, I don't care!" she shrieked back at him. "I'm going to have this baby _right here_—if you don't get me an ambulance."

A little bit of focus returning to him at the sound of those sobering words, Erik lifted Jenna into his arms to carry her to the bed that Nadir and Antoinette shared. Placing her gingerly on the mattress, he grabbed her hand, assuring her, "I'll be right back." When she nodded to him, her face once more clenched in pain, he turned toward the phone.

Just then, the door to his room opened, and Antoinette and Meg came inside. "Dear God, Erik," Antoinette exclaimed. "What is going on?"

"Oh, thank God!" He rushed over to them, never so grateful to see their faces. "There is no time to explain, but this is Jenna, and she's about to have my baby."

Antoinette's jaw dropped, as Meg gasped, "_Your_ baby?"

"Yes, Meg," Erik glared at her in annoyance, "_My_ baby."

Antoinette interjected, "Erik, I don't understand."

"Like I said, Antoinette, there's no time right now. I have to call an ambulance." Erik dashed to the phone, Antoinette following behind.

"Erik, I demand you tell me…"

"Don't you go making any demands on me, woman!" Erik snarled at her in his panic. "Why don't you go boil some water or gather some towels or something else useful!"

Antoinette left the room in a huff, while Erik dialed the phone.

Meg had slipped into the bathroom, while Erik and her mother were bickering, and placed a rag under the faucet. When it was good and wet, she approached the red haired woman where she lay uncomfortably in the bed. Her face was contorted in pain, and her brow was covered in sweat. Sitting down on the side of the bed, Meg placed the rag to the woman's forehead, gently wiping the perspiration away.

When the contraction passed, Jenna opened her eyes and looked at the little blond angel of mercy sitting next to her. "Hi," she said, exhausted already from the business of giving birth.

"Hello," the blond girl said, with a sweet smile. "I'm Meg."

Jenna felt her lips curling into a tired smile, as she took a better look at her friend in need. Long blond curls tied back, away from her face, round blue eyes, and a kind smile, Meg was as lovely as Chris had described. She was clad in a bluish grey maid's uniform, with a few smudges of dirt on her face, but Jenna could easily envision her in the puffy white skirts of the ballerinas she had spied while living with Erik at the opera house. "So," she said, "_You're_ Meg."

"And you, I take it, are Jenna." Meg smiled again, trying to keep her calm. "Chris spoke about you."

"Oh, he spoke about you, too, Meg," she told the girl, whose face immediately colored pink. "You made him so happy last night."

"Well," Meg answered, feeling her own heart start to flutter. "He made me quite happy as well."

"He, ah…" Jenna closed her eyes momentarily, as another contraction shot through her pelvis, then continued. "Sent me here to find you."

"He did?" her eyes lit up in surprise.

"Yeah," she nodded, trying to push up a bit in the bed, to get more comfortable. "He can't make it tonight. Got stuck at work. He's very sorry."

Meg nodded, "That's alright," she answered, smiling at his thoughtfulness. "I forgive him."

"I told him I would get your number, so he could call you himself."

"Number?" Meg responded, looking confused.

Jenna remembered when she first broached the topic of cell phones with Erik back in the lair, and chuckled. Maybe it's a good thing he hadn't asked yet. She looked up at the girl who still wore a perplexed expression on her face. "Meg," she began, reaching out for the girl's hand. "I think Chris is going to be very confused when he finds out I had the baby. There's a lot about this baby that he didn't know," she gave her a knowing look.

"Erik…" Meg responded, realizing that there would be no way for Chris to understand who had fathered Jenna's baby. Frankly, Meg didn't really understand it either.

"Right." Jenna nodded. "He's going to need a friend—someone other than me. Promise me you're going to stand by him, Meg."

Meg felt her heart go out to the beautiful man who had made her previous evening so special. "Of course, Jenna. I will. I promise."

Jenna smiled in relief, until another contraction caused her body to spasm. Grimacing in compassion, Meg squeezed her hand tightly, until the pain seemed to pass. When Jenna calmed again, Meg found the courage to ask, "How exactly do you and Erik know each other anyway? I mean," she said, gesturing toward Jenna's swollen belly, "besides the obvious."

Jenna chuckled despite herself. "It's a very long story. It involves a river and an accident and a door that even I don't fully understand. But suffice to say, Meg, I love him, with all of my heart. And he loves me. And this _is_ his baby that is currently," she clenched again, as she felt another searing pain, "tearing through my insides, trying to escape."

Meg's brows knit together to see Jenna in so much pain, until both women turned their heads at the booming shout on the other side of the room. "I don't want to hear your excuses. My instructions were clear. There is a woman here about to have a baby! We need an ambulance! If you don't send us one, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur!" The women flinched when they heard the crash of the phone receiver being slammed into the cradle.

"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera," Meg muttered under her breath, her eyes rolling.

"Erik, what is it?" Jenna called out, alarmed.

Erik returned to the bed, trying to calm the panic in his chest. "Apparently, there is an accident blocking traffic. They are uncertain if they will be able to get an ambulance here."

"Oh, no…" Jenna moaned, as another contraction hit her hard.

"Jenna, don't worry," Erik swore, kneeling down, and brushing the damp hair away from her face. "If they can't get an ambulance here, I will simply carry you to the hospital."

"Erik," she shrieked, horrified. "No! Are you crazy? It's too far, and it hurts…"she gritted her teeth once again, "too much."

"It's going to be alright," Meg said, squeezing Jenna's hand in encouragement, and trying desperately to be the voice of reason. "If you can't get to the hospital, you'll just have your baby here."

"Here?" both she and Erik cried together, horrified at the thought of bringing their baby into the world in such squalor.

"Yes here." Meg said again. "Women have children in their homes all the time, where we come from. You should know that, Erik," she said, looking over at him.

"Yes, but, this place is a pigsty." He protested.

"Hey!" Meg said, showing a bit of offense at his description. "I know this hotel is old and shabby, but mother and I clean it every day. This room is fine."

"Fine for what, now?" Nadir asked, as he and Antoinette walked in from the hall, carrying extra towels and blankets. When he looked over to the bed, he gasped. "Jenna, it really is you."

"Yep!" She smiled, despite her discomfort. "I'm here."

He rushed over to the side of the bed where Erik was kneeling and asked her, "What's this nonsense I hear about you having this brute's baby?"

Erik glared at him and opened his mouth to speak, before Jenna cut him off, chuckling softly. "It's all true, Nadir. I think we'll be meeting the little guy very soon."

"Well, hopefully he will take after you." Shielding his mouth with his hand, he added in a harsh whisper, "The father's had a terrible case of colic for as long as I've known him, and we certainly don't need two screaming babies around here."

Erik had a mind to strangle the Persian with his bare hands, but when he saw Jenna laughing through her next contraction, he felt overwhelmingly grateful. He watched as she extended her arms toward his friend, beckoning him toward her for a brief hug. "Oh, I've missed you, Nadir," she told him with a smile.

"And I missed you too, Jenna." He said, as he returned to a standing position. "He's been utterly unbearable without you."

Erik rolled his eyes and blurted, "Well you won't have to worry about that anymore, Persian, since I am never again letting her out of my sight. We'll be married as soon as possible."

A collective gasp filled the room.

"You will!" Nadir exclaimed, knowing that finally all would be right in his friend's world.

"You will?" Antoinette cried out, still having a bit of trouble imagining Erik, the opera ghost, as a loving husband.

"We will?" Jenna softly echoed the question to the surprise of those around her, as she looked at Erik, temporarily not feeling any pain. Taking her hand in his, Erik looked at her warmly and said, "Jenna, I would marry you right now—right this very instant—if I could get the preacher here through the traffic. That is…" he added with shy eyes. "If you would marry me."

"Yes, Erik," she whispered in pure joy, tears springing yet again to her eyes. "Yes I would marry you. Yes, I _will_ marry you. I cannot wait to become your wife!"

"My _wife_," he echoed in a hushed tone. Forgetting everyone else in the room, Erik gathered Jenna into his arms and cradled her in his tender embrace. "I love you, Jenna," he murmured into her ear so only she could hear. "I want to spend the rest of my life loving you."

"And I love you, my Erik," Jenna whispered back. "I will love you forever."

"Oh my gosh! A wedding!" Meg gushed, truly moved by the loving display before her. She could not help but be excited by the prospect of beautiful flowers and frilly dresses, and The Phantom of the Opera walking his true angel down the aisle. It was all so romantic, and she only wished Chris were here to witness his friend's joy.

Suddenly, a scream tore from Jenna's throat, as the most intense contraction yet charged through her body. There was an immense pressure in her pelvic region, and she felt as if she were being torn in two. Antoinette stepped forward, and in the no-nonsense tone of the formidable ballet mistress, she told the men to "step aside!"

Erik was about to do as she said, but Jenna grabbed his arm and begged, "Please don't leave me."

"Never, my darling," he assured her, but he glanced over at Antoinette, who only said, "Just stay out of the way, and hold her hand," punctuating it with her icy glare. "Meg!" she called, causing the ballerina to titter over to her side at the foot of the bed. "We need to remove her garments, to see how far she has progressed."

"Yes, Mother," she said, positioning herself to help.

Erik shot the Persian a withering look, and Nadir immediately turned in the opposite direction, to preserve Jenna's modesty. Antoinette and Meg placed one of the extra blankets over Jenna's midsection, allowing her a modicum of privacy, before checking to see how far her labor had advanced.

"Jenna," Antoinette said, trying to keep her voice warm and calm. "Your baby is close. I can see the head."

Jenna gripped Erik's hand tightly, but he could barely feel it, because his knuckles were already white from squeezing hers. "Erik," Jenna muttered, when she glanced up and saw the terrified look on his face, "You have to remember to breathe."

"I'm trying," he croaked, even though, in fact, he was tensely holding his breath.

Nadir reached over and thumped his friend on the back hard, causing Erik to take in a sharp gasp of surprise. "There," he said. "Now you won't pass out on your future wife while _she's_ having _your_ baby."

"Daroga, so help me…" Erik growled.

"Gentlemen!" Antoinette snapped, and the men immediately ceased their bickering. "Now then," Antoinette resumed her gentle tone. "Jenna, it's time to start pushing. It will be difficult, but your baby is counting on you."

Jenna nodded, taking in a deep breath. "Ok," then, looking up at Erik, she told him, "We can do this."

Smiling and squeezing her hand, he swallowed hard, and nodded, "I know _you_ can, Jenna."

When the next contraction came, Jenna pushed. Over and over again, she would push when she felt the impulse with Antoinette and Meg gently urging her on and Erik faithfully holding her hand. Between each push, he would wipe the sweat off her brow, and tenderly whisper how much he loved her, while Nadir stood behind him, and patted him firmly on the shoulder, any time his face grew too pale, or his eyes looked too worried. Finally, after about half an hour, Antoinette announced, "He's here," which was followed by a lusty cry.

Jenna and Erik just looked at each other, in awe of what they had just accomplished, while Meg helped her mother clean the baby and wrap him in a blanket. Nadir gave Erik one more punch on the shoulder, saying, "Congratulations, Papa. He sounds just like you already!"  
"Daroga," Erik muttered, still gazing adoringly at the mother of his child. "Do shut up."

"It's time to meet your son," Antoinette announced gently, as she brought the tiny, squirming bundle over to Erik and Jenna for the first time. She placed the baby gingerly into Jenna's arms, who cuddled him close to her heart. "Oh, Erik," she whispered, too choked up to say any more.

Erik kept a small distance and watched Jenna's expression closely, for any signs of distress at the baby's appearance. What he saw on her face, however, was pure, unadulterated adoration, which gave him the courage to slowly inch closer to the child.

The baby—_their_ baby—lay quietly on Jenna's chest, wrapped head to toe in one of the hotel's extra blankets. Erik could see a tiny fist—how could it possibly be that tiny—pushing out of its confines and wobbling into the air. When Erik reached a finger toward the little hand, five tiny fingers immediately curled around his, and trapped him in their surprisingly strong grasp.

Erik let out a single, breathy laugh of surprise and Jenna smiled up at him. "Come closer and look at your son, Erik," she urged, knowing that he had to see the baby's face for his fears to be completely quelled.

Erik glanced into Jenna's encouraging eyes for a moment longer, before turning his face toward his child. He beheld a perfectly round, cherubic face, with puffy cheeks and a perfectly formed rosebud mouth. The skin was smooth and pink, with not a mark or a scar to mar its flawless purity. Peeking out from beneath the blanket, was a tuft of thick black hair. And gazing at him, with intense interest, seeming to be sizing up Erik's very soul, were two absolutely stunning eyes—one a striking icy blue, and one a deep rich brown. They were Erik's own eyes reflected back at him, however on the babe's face, they did not seem an atrocity—but rather a facet of unmatchable beauty. Truly, the child took Erik's breath away. "He's…" Erik tried to speak, but he found it difficult, due to the lump in his throat. "He's… _perfect_."

"He's _you_." Jenna corrected him, with joy shining in her eyes. And in fact, it was true. The baby resembled, in every way, what his father would have looked like, had it not been for the cruel disfigurement that had plagued him from birth. Although Erik knew that no deformity would have ever mattered to Jenna, he was so grateful that his child would be spared the cruelty and the ridicule that he had experienced in life.

Erik rested his head close to the little baby, and placed a gentle kiss on his tiny forehead. He then turned and kissed Jenna's lips, murmuring "Thank you my love," against her mouth. At this moment—this precious, treasured moment—Erik felt truly blessed. He was surrounded by his _family_—enveloped in love.

"What are you going to name him?" came Meg's quiet question, moved as she was by the moment of familial bliss she was witnessing.

Erik pulled back and looked at Jenna, deferring to her preference, since she had borne the brunt of the pregnancy and delivery of their perfect little son. "Well, mother?" he asked with a crooked grin. "What do you think?"

Gazing up at him adoringly, she said, "I _did_ have a thought. The name Matthew means gift from God, and truly God has blessed us this day."

"I couldn't possibly agree more, my Jenna," he leaned down once again, to grace her lips with a kiss. "He shall be our Matthew—for today, I have truly been gifted, with a beautiful child, _and_ the return of my angel."

Jenna felt the tears begin to well in her eyes again. "God, Erik, I'm crying again!" she said, as the tears rolled down her face.

"It's the hormones, darling," Antoinette assured her, handing her a tissue.

"Paramedics!" A loud, gruff voice spoke from the door, as a man and a woman wearing blue uniforms made their way into the room, pushing a wheelchair.

"We're very sorry for the delay, ma'am," said the first paramedic, as he approached the bed. "Looks like we're a little late."

"Awww," the female medic cooed at the baby. "This doesn't look like a disaster at all! Sweet little baby!"

Erik reddened a bit at her words, remembering his tirade over the phone, but Jenna only laughed, beaming with pride for her son.

"Who helped with the delivery?" The male medic asked.

"I delivered the child," Antoinette stepped forward, with an air of authority.

"I helped," Meg piped in.

"Yes, my dear," Antoinette looked at Meg with a smile of approval. "You did well."

While the first medic talked to Meg and Antoinette, and the second one doted on Baby Matthew and took Jenna's vitals, Nadir took the opportunity to pull Erik aside.

"How are you feeling?" Nadir asked his friend.

"I'm … _overjoyed_, Daroga," Erik told him without any hint of artifice. "Absolutely overjoyed. This morning, I was planning on leaving here—on leaving Jenna, and New York behind. Then by some miracle, she walked through that door, and _now_, Daroga…" Erik's voice trailed off, as he looked around in wonder. "I have everything I've ever wanted, and more than I ever dared to dream. I am ecstatic, Daroga. I… I don't even feel as if I deserve this."

Nadir smiled at his friend, who was obviously completely overwhelmed by his turn of good fortune. Clasping Erik on the shoulder, he said, "That's where you're wrong, my friend. Of course, you deserve this. You _love_ her. And she loves you—_so_ much. That was always obvious to me. And that's all you really need. You gave her up once—sacrificing your own happiness out of love for her—but the universe brought her back to you. You two are obviously meant to be together. Congratulations, Erik. I truly have never known anyone who deserves this type of happiness more."

Erik was truly moved by his friend's kind words. "Thank you… Nadir," he said, with hollow voice. "I will always cherish them."

"I know you will, my friend," Nadir smiled kindly. "That is _why_ you deserve them.

"Everything looks great," the lead medic told Jenna when they were finished tending to their patients, "But we'd like you and the baby to come back to the hospital with us, just for observation."

"Because who could get enough of observing this little angel?" the second paramedic said, gazing at Matthew with a scrunched up face.

"Right," Erik responded, with a smile. "Let's go."

"Can you come too?" The male medic asked Antoinette and Meg. "The doctors might have a few more questions."

"Of course we'll go," said Antoinette, she and Meg gathering up Jenna's purse and clothing, as the paramedics helped transfer their patient to a wheelchair for the ride.

Nadir started to follow them out, but Antoinette stopped him. "Darling, someone needs to stay behind," she gestured to the floor and the bed "To clean up this mess."

Nadir huffed, and Erik could not help but smile, as he shook his head and shrugged. "Your lady commands Nadir," he said, barely suppressing a laugh.

"That's right, Erik," Nadir called, as they all filed out of the room. "You just go on. I'll stay behind and clean up your dirty work. Again."

**It's like the toilet in room 107 all over again, LOL. Poor Nadir! Always cleaning up Erik's messes!**

**Well, they made it through labor-and baby Matthew has arrived. Woohoo! Let the BLUE confetti fly! How do you think Erik did in the delivery room? I think he did great, all things considered.**

**Please review and let me know what you think! :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**HI All! Looks like everyone is happy to have met Baby Matthew and Jenna & Erik did pretty good with him. And hopefully Nadir will show up soon to clean up all the confetti on the floor. But not EVERYONE has met baby Matthew. Let's see what our good Doctor Chris thinks, about this whole situation, shall we?**

CH 13

"You look fantastic, Jenna!" her obstetrician told her, after she completed her physical exam. "And Matthew is perfect. Absolutely, perfect."

Jenna gazed over at Erik with love in her eyes. "I know he is. Just like his father."

"No," the father disagreed, shaking his head with a smile. "He is exceptional because of his mother."

The doctor glanced at the father, who was standing across the room, to allow the doctor to do her job, holding a sleeping Matthew in his arms. With his face half hidden by a stark white mask, and the guarded way he carried himself, he struck the doctor as a little strange. He had also been absent for the entirety of the pregnancy, causing Jenna's best friend, Chris, to serve as moral support. But the absolute adoration on Jenna's face when she looked at her fiancé—Erik, she thought his name was—was quite a thing to behold. There must be something wonderful about him, because she had never seen Jenna look so happy. And it was plain to see the great love he had for her and the baby as well.

"Well," the doctor smiled and patted Jenna's leg, before standing. "I'm going to give you two a little quiet time while Matthew is sleeping so that you can relax. My advice is to enjoy it. Babies don't stay quiet for long!"

"Thank you, doctor." Jenna smiled and Erik nodded politely as the physician left the room.

"I don't know what she's talking about," Erik commented, walking over to sit in the chair next to the bed. "Our little Matthew is, and will always be, the perfect angel."

Jenna laughed out loud, as she took the baby into her arms. "Erik, he's your son! I'm sure there's a little mischief in there somewhere!"

"Oh," Erik smirked, while trying to feign innocence. "And his mother is not at _all_ mischievous? Who caught the spiders for the diva's wig?"

"Who hid toads in her dressing room?" she responded with a giggle.

"Who _bit_ me?" Erik continued, pretending to be scandalized. "—Causing a rather painful flesh wound in the process, I might add."

"Guilty as charged," Jenna smiled. "But I simply couldn't resist you," she added, tilting her head upward a bit to indicate that she would like a kiss.

Erik was only too happy to oblige, as he leaned forward and joined his lips with hers for a gentle kiss. "Just another thing I love about you." He murmured, before kissing her again, their lips lingering a little longer this time, as their offspring slept peacefully on Jenna's chest.

A cleared throat and the crack of a cane hitting the floor broke Erik and Jenna from their kiss, as the door opened and the Parisians walked into the room.

"Are couples in love always this openly affectionate?" Meg asked, charmed by the show of love in front of them.

"They should be," answered Nadir, who had finally finished cleaning up the mess in the hotel room. He put his arm around Antoinette's waist and pulled her closer to him for a quick kiss, earning him a shy smile, and a gentle swat on the shoulder.

"Nadir!" she scolded, with an embarrassed giggle.

"They started it," he retorted, gesturing toward Erik and Jenna. "I was simply following their lead."

When Matthew started making some quiet cooing noises, indicating that he was about to wake, Meg hurried over to the bed. "Hello, Baby Matthew!" she said softly, taking him from Jenna, and holding him carefully in her arms. Looking him over from head to toe, she took pride in the child she helped deliver. "We did good work, Mother," she said, with a satisfied smile.

"To be fair, Darling," Antoinette countered, walking over to peer over her daughter's shoulder. "It was Erik and Jenna that did the work of creating this little angel. We were simply there to help welcome him to the world."

"So, are you sick of him yet?" Nadir asked Jenna, gesturing to Erik, and leaving the women to tend to the child.

Erik rolled his eyes, but Jenna simply smiled and shook her head. "Never! I will never be tired of my Erik," at which point, Erik leaned forward to place another loving kiss on her forehead.

"That's what I thought you'd say," Nadir smiled approvingly, knowing that Erik and Jenna were finally both exactly where they belonged—together.

"I got here as soon as I heard!" came another frantic voice as the door to their room opened once more and Chris came rushing in. "Jenna, I…" his voice trailed off as he noticed the happy couple cuddled together on the bed.

"Chris," Jenna looked up, happy to see her friend, but a bit worried about his reaction.

"Chris?" Meg turned, still holding the baby to see the man who had so recently captured her heart. His blue eyes gazed from the hospital bed to Meg, wide with confusion.

"Meg?" He asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I found her for you," Jenna answered his question, with a crooked grin.

Chris looked back toward the bed, at the strange masked man who sat so close to Jenna, one arm curled around her, the fingers of his other hand entwined with hers. His eyes met Jenna's again, and the confusion in them was joined with pain. "Jenna?" he said again, his voice hollow, with a lack of understanding.

"Chris," Jenna swallowed hard and smiled, realizing that her next words were going to be very hard for her friend to hear. "This is Erik, Matthew's father and my…fiancé."

Chris tilted his head to one side, his eyes narrowing. Matthew's _father_? Her _fiancé_? What was she talking about? How could any of this be true?

"Erik," Jenna turned to the man who was sitting beside her. "I think I need a moment alone with Chris."

Erik looked at Jenna quietly for a moment longer, and then over at the handsome young man standing in the doorway who looked so heartbroken. It was against everything in his nature to leave Jenna alone with another man—especially one who obviously had feelings for her. But when Jenna squeezed his hand again in a silent plea, Erik rose from the bed and walked toward the door. Despite the turmoil he was feeling at the moment, there was a great deal for which he knew he had to be grateful to this young man. Therefore, he met Chris's eyes at the door, and nodded politely, as he walked past him, out of the room.

The others followed, Meg first placing Matthew back into his mother's loving arms. When she walked by Chris, she touched his arm and told him, "I'll be right outside." He nodded at her gratefully as she walked past. And then they were alone.

When Chris made no move toward her, nor any attempt to speak, Jenna said, "So, as you can see, I finally figured out a name. Would you like to meet Matthew?"

Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he walked over to the bed, and gazed at the baby who was lying contentedly in his mother's arms. Without a doubt, the child was perfect in every way. With his thick black hair and unique two-tone eyes, it was also clear to see that the man who had just exited the room really was the baby's father. They looked so much alike.

Forcing himself to smile, Chris said, "He's beautiful, Jenna," without looking at her, afraid that his emotions would be too easy to read.

"Chris," Jenna said, knowing that her friend was confused and hurting, and hoping so much that she could make him understand. "Look at me."

"So that's him?" he finally asked, in a quavering voice, the question that weighed on both of their minds. But still, he could not look at her. "The man you were in love with? The reason you couldn't…" he trailed off a bit once more, taking a deep breath to regain his composure, "love me?"

Hearing his voice so fragile and seeing his face so sad, hurt Jenna's heart, and she had to fight to keep another one of her crying jags away. "I'm sorry, Chris," was the only response she could think to make.

"I thought it was Jake, you know?" he said, smiling tightly, finally glancing at her quickly, before letting baby Matthew steal his gaze again. It was easier to be calm when staring at the child, then when looking at the woman who had broken his heart. "I thought he was never coming back."

"I know you thought it was Jake, and it was easier for me to let you think that," she began, trying with all her might to stay calm. "But the truth is, I never thought there was any chance I would see Erik again."

"Because he was in love with another woman, right? That's what you said." Chris chuckled darkly to himself. "W…w…what was he—some kind of one-night-stand? You broke up with Jake right before your accident and found out you were pregnant shortly after you woke up from the coma. W…was he just some guy you hooked up with? And that was enough to fall in love, even though he was with somebody else?"

"No, Chris." Jenna shook her head, trying so hard not to become upset. "That's not how it was at all."

"Well, why don't you tell me how it was, Jenna?" Chris spat in a sharp whisper, finally meeting her gaze. "Because nothing you're telling me now makes any kind of sense!"

Jenna took a deep breath, before muttering, "Don't expect for _this_ to make any sense either."

"What are you saying?" he spat.

"What I'm saying," Jenna began, "Is that it all started with my accident. Chris, I never knew I was in a coma. Not until I woke up."

Chris shook his head and scrunched his face, "What has that got to do with …"

"I was living in another world."

Chris looked at her a moment, but the look of betrayal was replaced with a look of concern. "Jenna, you were right here the whole time."

Jenna shook her head, "Only part of me was here. But part of me was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere strange—somewhere wonderful. I was beneath the Paris Opera house. With Erik."

"W…w…wait a minute!" he stopped her, his mind reeling with confusion. "The Paris Opera House? Isn't that where The Phantom of the Opera…"

"Yes, Chris,"

"But that's not real, Jenna. It's a fictional story."

"But I think Erik is the not so fictional kernel of truth at the heart of the story, Chris." When he just shook his head in confusion, Jenna quickly continued. "After my accident, I found myself in a tunnel—at the end of which was a door. When I opened it, I was in Paris in the year 1864. I didn't know it at the time. I thought I was just lost, and I tried to get home. But little by little the pieces fell into place, and I realized I _couldn't_ get home—because I was lost in time."

Chris's eyes narrowed even more, and he turned his head to the side. "Jenna, this is crazy."

"Yes," she agreed. "It is. And at first I _thought_ I was crazy. And so did Erik," she smiled despite herself, remembering some of the arguments they'd had when Erik thought she was a mental patient, before they discovered the truth. "But, none-the-less, he took care of me. He tended to my wounds, and he gave me a place to stay. And he worked really hard to help me find my way home—but in the process," she shrugged, "We fell in love."

Chris looked down at the mention of her falling in love with him. Though he'd already seen the evidence of the fact, it was still difficult to hear, so he simply let Jenna continue her impossible tale.

"I had decided, in fact, that I _wasn't _coming home. I was so in love with him, that I was fine being stuck in the 19th century, as long as it meant being with Erik. But my health started to fail. I was having headaches, fainting spells…on the night we conceived Matthew, I had a massive Grand Mal Seizure. Erik really thought I was going to die."

Chris's jaw tightened as he recalled the night he too thought Jenna might die because of the seizure. To think that was the night Matthew was conceived…

"After that night, Erik really increased his efforts to figure out how I got back to the 1800s in the first place. He somehow—again, please don't ask me how, because I don't understand—figured out that the door I walked through was a liminal one, which connected two realities. I was existing in two realities, Chris, and Erik realized that I had to choose one. But he was also afraid that if I chose to stay with him—which I _had_ already chosen, in my heart—that I would die. So he lied to me, telling me he was in love with another woman, to make me want to leave him—to make me want to come back. He's the reason I came out of the coma that morning, Chris. I walked away from him, through the door, and it sent me back home.

"When I was first back, I really questioned my sanity—you know I did. I thought everything was some elaborate dream. But then I found out about the baby. It could only have been Erik's—that's when I finally knew it had all been real. And I could never stop loving him, Chris.

"But there was an explosion at the opera house, and, miraculously, the door opened again for Erik and Meg and her family."

"Meg?" Chris asked her incredulously.

"Yes. She's from the opera house too. And they all came through and wound up here. I just found out today Chris. I'm so sorry I never told you the truth about everything, but now that you know, you can see why I never thought I would have the need. I didn't think I would ever see Erik again. I didn't think it was possible, and even if it had been, I didn't think he would want me. But he's here, Chris, and now I know he never stopped loving me either. He asked me to marry him, and I said yes. And I am happier about that than I ever thought I would be again in my life. I'm just so sorry that it hurt you."

Chris closed his eyes as she finished her tale. For so long—ever since he'd seen Jenna for the first time—a part of him had been in love with her. When she was lying there in the coma, his feelings for her had made him fight so hard to bring her back. And then, when she was back, he stood by her side every single step of the way—even though she made it clear again and again that she could never love him. It didn't stop him from loving her. He tried so hard not to pressure her—not to push too hard, because he wanted to be what _she_ needed him to be, even if it wasn't what he wanted. Through it all, his hope was that one day, if he waited long enough, if he showed enough patience, and kindness and care, she would wake up and realize she did love him. But now he knew—with irrevocable certainty—that that dream was shattered. And it _did_ hurt. It took his breath away.

"I'm happy it all worked out for you, Jenna," he said quickly, as he stood and turned to go.

"Chris, wait," she called after him.

"What should I wait for, Jenna?" he asked in frustration, turning back to face her. "Should I wait for your boyfriend to come back in and kiss you right in front of me? Should I wait for him to hurt you again, with lies and with betrayals? Maybe I should wait around to be the shoulder you cry on, leaving you feeling better and me with nothing but a wet shirt? Should I wait to help with the baby, like we've been planning for the last nine months? No, I don't think I'll be needed for that now that Daddy's back. I _have_ waited, Jenna!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "I have waited and waited for the day to come when you would realize how much I loved you—how much I have _always_ loved you. I waited, hoping that maybe one day you could find it in your heart to love me too. But that day is never going to come!"

Chris stopped his tirade with the sound of little Matthew crying, woken by the noise and tension in the room. Looking one last agonizing time at Jenna as she tried to soothe her child, he added, "Wait over, Jenna. It's time for me to go." And with that, he walked out of her room, brushing past Meg and the others, on his way into the night.

**Oh dear. Chris didn't take that very well at all. So what does this mean for Chris and Jenna. And what could it mean for Chris and Meg? Please review and let me know-and tune in tomorrow to find out. **


	15. Chapter 15

**OK, so it makes me sad that poor Chris is upset. Let's see if we can cheer him up some. **

Ch 14

Chris stormed out onto the hospital terrace, putting his palms out flat on top of the waist high wall. He bent over partway, taking in deep, cleansing breaths to try to calm himself. It wasn't working.

He didn't know why he was so upset. Jenna had never told him she loved him. She had never lied. She had always been very up front about her inability to give him her heart. He'd always told her he understood—that he just wanted to be there for her and the baby—that he didn't want anything more from her than friendship. He honestly thought that would be enough for him—that he would be ok, just having her as some part of his life.

Apparently, he had been the one that had lied.

The baby's father showing up out of the blue like that was the last thing he'd ever thought would happen. To see with his own two eyes how much Jenna adored him—it cut him right to the bone. Her utterly ridiculous explanation didn't help either—time travel while in a coma. He deserved more honesty than that. He deserved more . . . didn't he?

"Hello," the soft, high-pitched voice said from beside him. "Mind if I join you?"

"Would it matter if I did?" he answered flippantly.

"I. . ." Meg stumbled over her words, flustered by Chris's barbed tone. "I came, because Jenna said you might need a friend."

"Jenna?" he asked harshly, not looking at her. "Oh? Are you two friends from the opera house too?"

Quietly, Meg answered, "No, I never knew Jenna at the opera house."

Chris laughed acerbically, turning toward her with hard eyes, "You know, Meg, when you said that you used to work at the Paris Opera House, I thought you meant last month, or even last year. Not last century."

"I know it's difficult to understand," she began, trying to remain calm.

"Difficult?" Chris yelled. "It's absolutely insane!"

"I know," she answered in a small voice.

"How does she expect me to believe" he spat, beginning to pace back and forth in a line in front of her, "that she traveled back in time over a hundred years, while I saw her every day laying in a hospital bed?"

"I don't know," she whispered.

"How am I supposed to believe," he ranted, "that while I was working day and night trying to save her life, she was off in another world falling in love with…with…a _freak_ with half a face?"

Meg silently shook her head.

"How…" Chris's ire was beginning to run out of steam now, and defeat was washing over him. "How can she love _him…_ and not…" he hung his head, dejected, "me?"

Meg looked at Chris, his body overcome with grief and frustration. It was obvious to her that Jenna had meant so much more to him than he had let on—maybe even more than he himself had realized. Though a part of her wanted to give in to jealousy, seeing him, his tall frame bent over in grief, she felt a consuming sympathy, and simply answered, "_That_, I will never understand."

Chris looked up to see Meg standing before him, compassion evident in her eyes. He sighed, thinking to himself that this was something else he had entirely botched. Though he had only asked Meg out because Jenna had urged him to do so, he truly _had_ thoroughly enjoyed spending time with her. But now, she had gotten to witness him having a breakdown over his best friend's happiness. Certainly, that made a wonderful impression.

"I fear," he answered her in scratchy voice, "that I am not very good company right now."

"That's alright," she responded, with kind eyes. "You don't have to entertain me. I just want to be here. With you." She held his gaze a moment more, before turning her body toward the wall. Setting her elbows on top of it, she leaned forward and gazed out into the night.

Chris looked at her quietly a moment before nodding, "I would like that."

They both stood there, looking out into the night, watching the city lights pass by for a few quiet moments. "You know," Meg said, still gazing out over the city. "Back in Paris, I had my heart set on a very handsome, very rich gentleman. He was suave and funny, and very debonair." She smiled briefly before continuing, "We had had a few passing encounters, but, mostly I admired him from a distance. He was _so_ very far out of my league. I was a dancer, as you know—a lower class than him. And mixing between the classes simply was not done.

"A few months before…we got here, there was a big party, and I decided it was my goal that night to dance with him. Class difference be damned, I was going to take a chance." Meg paused, looked down, and smiled.

When she didn't say anything more, Chris turned to her and asked, "So did you get your dance?"

Sighing heavily, she said, "No. Before I had the chance, he met my best friend, Christine, and fell madly in love with her. They were married shortly afterward."

"Oh," Chris said, turning away and looking out over the city again. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Meg said, "It was rough. I guess what I'm saying is that I understand what it's like to care for someone, but have them choose someone else."

Chris hung his head. "I'm sorry Meg. Especially after our date last night, it's not fair for you to have to deal with this. This whole situation, it's just—not what I expected at all. And it's hitting me pretty hard."

Meg reached out and gently touched his hand. "I understand, Chris."

Chris looked down at where their hands were joined, giving her palm a little squeeze, then caught her eyes with his. "Thank you, Meg, for understanding."

"I just hope," she said, a little sheepishly. "That _we_ can still be friends. I enjoyed last evening so much."

Chris smiled. "I really enjoyed myself last night, too, Meg. Especially," he added, feeling a little more lighthearted now, "Dancing with you."

She lifted her head and gave him a big smile. "Especially our dance by the river."

Chris took her other hand in his now too, so that they were standing very close to one another. Remembering their slow dance in the moonlight that led to their sweet and gentle first kiss, he agreed, "It was the highlight of the night."

"It was," she nodded, standing on her tiptoes.

Not able to resist her invitation, Chris dipped his head low to hers for another sweet kiss. When they separated, he whispered, "Thank you for not giving up on me."

Keeping her head very close to his, Meg shook her head, saying, "I have learned that sometimes not getting what you expected can be better than you ever dreamed."

With that, Chris pulled her close to him and kissed her again, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist, allowing her to trail her arms around his neck. "You are a godsend, Meg." He put his arm around her shoulders, and tucked her head into the crook of his neck, as they resumed staring out at the city. Standing there holding her, letting the tension ease out of his body at the feeling of her warm embrace, he replayed her words in his head, until something jarred his memory.

"Meg," he asked her softly, placing a feathery kiss on the top of her head.

"Mmmmm?" she hummed in response, her eyes gently closed, enjoying his nearness and the feeling of his lips.

"You said your best friend was named Christine."

"Yes," she sighed, nuzzling closer to him. "Why?"

Chris almost abandoned his question altogether, as he reveled in her softness, but after a moment he asked. "Why did you think I was married to her the day we first met?"

Meg's eyes shot open, remembering their very first exchange.

_"__Where is Christine? Is she with you?"_

_"I don't know anyone named Christine." _

_"But you just married her." _

Meg turned her head to look at the handsome, if slightly confused, man who was holding her in his arms. "Well, Chris," she began, hoping desperately that he would not take this the wrong way. "You look _just_ like her husband."

* * *

After seeing Chris charge out of the room, Erik hurried back to his beloved's side only to find Jenna teary eyed and trying to coax a screaming Matthew to nurse.

"Things didn't go very well, I take it?" He asked, in a voice that was meant to be as soothing as possible.

"How could you tell?" Jenna responded, her frustration evident in her tone. She didn't look at Erik, trying so hard to get Matthew to latch on, but the screaming infant would have none of it. "Matthew, please," Jenna begged her child to cooperate, to no avail. The baby continued to shriek and wail, arching his back against her efforts to soothe him. "Oh God!" she groaned in extreme irritation. "I can't even get _this_ right!"

"May I take him, Jenna?" Erik asked gently, reaching out his arms for his son. Exasperated, she handed the squirming infant to his father, who cradled him close to his heart and hummed to him in soothing tones. Within seconds, Matthew's cries had quieted, and he was gazing up at Erik in fascination. Jenna just stared at the scene before her, mesmerized by Erik's natural ability to soothe his cranky child.

"You are a miracle worker, Erik," Jenna exclaimed, with admiration.

"Hardly, my love," he answered, still gazing with adoration at the infant staring up at him. "It's just that I think Matthew has inherited my own stubborn streak, and tendency to not know what's good for him. He simply needed a little persuading." He gently placed his son in Jenna's arms, where the hungry infant immediately began suckling. Erik watched them, mother and son in such an intimate moment, and couldn't help but purr, "I must say, though, Jenna, that I would not need so much convincing in this case."

Jenna gazed up at him and met his hungry lips with hers. "I love you, Erik," she whispered, thinking that she would never tire of saying those words.

"And I love you, Jenna," Erik responded, knowing just as certainly, that he would never tire of hearing them. "But, now I'd like to know what happened with your friend to get you—and Matthew—so upset. I can't have anything disturbing my family, now, can I?"

As much as Jenna's heart thrilled to hear herself and her son referred to as Erik's family, it twisted with sadness when she thought of the last expression she had seen on Chris's face—forlorn, betrayed, damaged.

"Oh, Erik," she began, feeling the tension rise up once again to her shoulders, and make her jaw ache. "It was awful. He was so hurt…so bitter. I had always told him I could never love him, but I guess he still held on to hope."

"I can't say that I blame him." Erik answered, knowing how hard it was _not_ to love Jenna.

"He didn't understand, Erik," Jenna continued. "He didn't understand about us, or about how it could even be possible."

"How could he, Jenna?"

Jenna shook her head, feeling hopeless. "I didn't want to hurt him, Erik," she told him. "I don't want to lose him. He was my support system when you weren't here. I don't want him to think I just used him up and then threw him out when you came back."

Erik's emotions warred within him. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than for the handsome young doctor to stay far away from the woman he loved. This man harbored feelings for Jenna, and that could come to no good end. Besides, the boy was no longer needed. Erik was here now, and he was going to spend the rest of his life taking care of Jenna and Matthew. And yet, who knew better than Erik, the devastation the doctor felt right now? After all, Erik had lost Jenna once—and it had nearly destroyed him. Truth be told, Erik knew he owed this doctor a great debt, for the way he had taken care of Jenna during Erik's absence.

With a heavy sigh, Erik said, "Jenna, I shall go talk to him."

Jenna looked up with something akin to horror on her face. "Oh, Erik, no," she answered. "I'm afraid. . ."

"Jenna," he assured her, "I'll be gentle."

"I just don't know if this is a good idea," Jenna shook her head.

"Of course it is, love," Erik responded, his mind resolute now that this was the correct course of action. "You just take care of Matthew. I'll be right back."

"Erik. . ." Jenna called after him as he turned to go.

Erik simply looked back at her and blew her a kiss, before walking out the door.

"Please don't make things worse," Jenna muttered quietly, as she held her son a little tighter.

* * *

"I look just like her _husband_?" Chris repeated Meg's words, taking a few steps back from her. "Just like the man you wanted to dance with?"

"Well. . .yes," Meg confirmed, concerned that this revelation was not going to go well.

"Meg, is that why you want to spend time with me? Because I remind you of some other guy?" he asked, knowing even as he did that he had no business making this an issue with her. Hadn't he just gone out with Meg to try to forget Jenna?

"Chris, no," Meg insisted, grabbing his hands in hers. "You look like him, yes, but that's where the resemblance ends. "You're kind, and sweet, and funny, and you don't even care that you're a doctor dating a hotel cleaning girl. Meanwhile, Raoul was pompous and…"

"Raoul?" Chris asked, his brows knitting together. "That was my great-great-great grandfather's name. The one who emigrated from Paris"

Meg raised her own eyebrows, asking, "It was?"

"Yes." Chris answered, beginning once again to pace the terrace. "Come to think of it, my great-great-great grandmother's name was Christine." Chris stopped moving and looked directly over at Meg, who was staring at him, in astonishment. "But Meg, that was well over a hundred years ago!"

"When she was the toast of the Paris stage," a rich, mellifluous voice said from behind them.

Chris and Meg both turned to see Erik standing just outside the door to the terrace. Chris's jaw clenched and his frame filled with tension once again as Erik approached them calmly. "A more beautiful voice could not be found in all of France—perhaps not in all the world," he continued, with a faraway gaze in his eyes. "I was proud to be her teacher . . . her angel."

Chris's nostrils flared as the age-old tale of _Erik and Christine_ sprang into in his mind. "Christine was the woman you were in love with?" Chris muttered in an icy tone, remembering the way Erik had broken Jenna's heart.

"No," Erik shook his head, "I cared for Christine and I greatly enjoyed training her. But Jenna is the only woman with whom I have ever been in love. And Christine always loved the Vicomte'."

Chris stared hard at the man before him, made so familiar through popular culture, but who, in actuality, was little more than a stranger. Clad all in black save for his white half mask, he was one of the most well known fictional characters come to life, rendering Chris's own real world into some kind of dark fairy tale. "And you mean to tell me," Chris asked stonily, "that you knew my great-great-great grandmother? What are you? 35? 40?"

Erik considered a moment. "Probably. But the years never really mattered before I met Jenna, so I couldn't tell you for certain."

"Christine and Raoul lived over 100 years ago!" Chris exclaimed, his voice rising in frustration. "What you're saying isn't real. _None_ of this can be real."

"Doctor," Erik responded, still calm, using the hypnotic tone in his voice to try to make Chris see reason. "I know it is difficult to understand. It took me quite some time to understand what was going on myself. But make no mistake. Jenna _did_ travel to my world—when she arrived, it was the year 1884."

Chris felt the breath go out of him. "Eighteen eighty… No!" he said, shaking his head. "That is impossible!"

"Chris," Meg interjected, reaching over and rubbing his back. "It's true. I did not know Jenna at the opera house, but she must have traveled back in time, because _we_ traveled forward."

"Oh, Meg," Chris glared at her with wounded eyes. "Not you too."

"It's true, Chris!" she urged him to believe her. "We left the Palais Garnier on the night it burned down. In August of 1885."

Chris felt as if he had been dealt a blow to the chest. He leaned back against the terrace wall, and steadied himself with his arms. "But …" he stammered, still in shock. "That was one hundred and thirty years ago."

"It was," Erik nodded solemnly.

Chris looked up slowly and met Erik's gaze. "But how?" he asked in confusion. "She was right here—in a hospital bed on the fourth floor. I was her doctor. I took care of her. I read to her, and sang to her, and came in on my days off just to talk to her. I held her hand and told her she wasn't alone. I did everything in my power to coax her back from the coma."

"And for that I thank you." Erik interrupted, his voice deep and rich. "You have my eternal gratitude for saving her life."

Chris's eyes narrowed, "But she says it was you. She says you fed her some lie about being in love with Christine, and that's what sent her back here. It wasn't _my_ work at all."

Erik pondered a moment and answered, "Perhaps it was a joint effort. But I know that if you hadn't been here when she woke up, she would have been lost. She needed your friendship."

"And she doesn't anymore, right?" Chris snapped. "You are somehow miraculously here, and you will be husband and father, and good old Chris is no longer needed."

Erik regarded the man in front of him—so handsome and yet so fragile. He was the kind of man to whom the world had handed everything—looks, brains, money. And yet, his heart was set on Jenna. And Jenna was the one thing Erik would never give up. HE had half a mind to crush this young man's spirit. It would be so easy to do—to be certain that he would never come near Jenna again. He could share details of his and Jenna's love affair—revealing how she had welcomed him into her arms, into her body. He could point to Matthew as the proof of their bond. But he saw the sadness in the young man's eyes and he looked at Meg, who stood so near to him, and seemed so anxious for him, and Erik just couldn't.

"No, doctor, you are no longer needed," Erik made reply, watching Chris's already defeated spirit deflate even more. "But, you are wanted. Jenna wants you in her life—as a best friend and a source of support. Matthew, too, I think, must want you—for yours was the familiar voice he heard along with his mother's as he was growing within her. And I would like to show my gratitude and friendship to you, for all you have done and been for Jenna."

"We will _never_ be friends!" Chris spat.

Erik took a deep breath against the young man's impudence. _This is for Jenna_, he reminded himself. _Anything for Jenna_. Erik opened his hands in a conciliatory gesture and said, "So be it. But you and Jenna can be. Wouldn't you rather be wanted—chosen freely—rather than simply needed?"

"Don't shut her out, Chris," Meg said, gently touching his arm. "A girl needs her best friend when she's planning a wedding."

Chris closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Jenna was getting married. Jenna had just had a baby, and was getting _married_—and not to him. It was a new reality that he was just going to have to get used to. But feeling the soft pressure on his forearm, he was reminded that he was not going to have to do it alone.

Chris opened his eyes and looked down at the sweet, blond woman who was holding his arm and gazing up at him with such concern in her eyes. "You're right, Meg. There is a wedding to plan." Shaking his head, he added, "It was not what I expected, but a very wise, very beautiful woman once told me, sometimes not getting what you expected can be better than you ever dreamed."

Meg pulled Chris closer for a quick squeeze, flashing him one of her brightest smiles. "Yes, Chris," she nodded. "Yes it can."

Chris turned toward Erik, "I'd like to go visit Jenna and Matthew now, if you don't mind."

_Of course I mind, you foolish imp! _Erik thought to himself, anxiously_. You are a young, handsome doctor and everything that Jenna and Matthew deserve. _But as he gazed at Meg hanging contentedly onto the young man's arm, a brighter thought entered his mind. _Jenna loves me. She chose me! _

"You are welcome to visit Jenna and Matthew whenever you like. I am certain they would both be glad to see you."

Chris and Meg walked toward the door, but as they were about to enter the hospital, Chris paused and looked Erik directly in the eyes. Nodding once, he said, "Thank you, Erik."

Erik regarded Chris closely and said, "You're welcome, doctor," and he gestured him toward the door.

**Well, it looks like Chris is making some headway. Maybe he can learn to be happy for Erik and Jenna after all. He does have Meg to make him smile, after all. The greatest thing he never expected. **

**As always, please let me know what you think. :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Well, Erik has learned to be the better man and share Jenna with her friend-and Chris now understands that he has been given an unexpected blessing in Meg. So where do our friends go from here? Well, home from the hospital for starters, I hope. :) **

CH 15

Erik leaned lazily against a wall in the labor and delivery ward, half hidden by a support pillar. From his obscured vantage point, he had the perfect secret view of the friendly reunion transpiring in Jenna's room. Sheepish at first, Chris stood at the foot of the bed, never letting go of Meg's hand. Erik could tell that he was talking—most likely apologizing, judging by the repentant look on his face. When Jenna responded with a smile however, the young doctor's body relaxed, and relief washed over his features. Still he held Meg's hand firmly in his own.

They approached the bed together, and the doctor leaned down to take Matthew into his arms, cradling him carefully and close. Meg put her arm around Chris's shoulders, and leaned in close to see the baby. Everyone shared happy glances as the tension between the two best friends seemed to melt away.

"How heartwarming!" Nadir remarked, as he and Antoinette turned the corner to find Erik watching the touching scene from the shadows.

"Actually, I find it repulsive," Erik scowled.

It made his stomach churn to see the comfortable smiles the handsome doctor shared with Jenna—the way the two had taken to laughing—the familiar manner in which the boy held Erik's child. It would be so easy for Erik to give in to the darkness that was creeping at the edges of his emotions—to succumb once more to the insecurities that told him that love and happiness were not for him.

Nadir snickered. "I give you credit, Erik. I half expected the boy to be sporting a Punjab cravat by now," he retorted, earning him a swat from Antoinette.

Erik shook his head. "I more than half expected it myself, Daroga. But look at her," he added, his eyes trained on Jenna and her guests. "She's happy."

Nadir watched through the glass, and had to admit that, indeed, Jenna looked content. "True," he said, noncommittally knowing that his friend was, on some level, worried about this young man stealing Jenna's affections. "She appears happy." Then turning to Erik, he added, "But she is radiant when she looks at you." And it was true. Though Jenna seemed very happy to be showing off her son to her two visitors, the look on her face was nothing like the expression of pure joy that she wore when she gazed upon Erik.

At Nadir's comforting words, a smile spread over Erik's face, for he knew his friend was right. "She loves me, Daroga," Erik declared quietly, his voice still colored with wonder at his good fortune. "She _chose_ me. She is marrying _me_."

"That's right, my friend," Nadir patted Erik on the back. "Don't you ever forget it!"

A thrill of excitement coursed through Erik's soul. "I want to get married right now, Daroga! Let's call the preacher. He can marry us right here, at Jenna's bedside."

"I'll see if I can find him!" Nadir responded, ready to set off in hopes of finding a priest.

"Gentlemen!" Antoinette interjected with an air of authority, a bit outraged with their hastiness. "A wedding must _not_ be rushed. Jenna has most likely dreamed of this day for her entire life, Erik. You want it to be special for her. You don't want her to be forced to say her vows in a hospital gown! You two have just brought a child into the world. It is enough right now for her to adjust to being a mother. Besides" she added, trying to say this next part as delicately as possible. "Her body will need to … heal … before she can fully be a wife."

At Erik's look of dismay, Antoinette's tone softened. "Erik," she said, a bit more warmth in her tone. "Nadir _finally_ took the time to explain to me yours and Jenna's story. I know she is as eager to marry you, as you are to marry her. She was ready to give up everything for you—she would probably actually be just fine with a bedside ceremony. But give her more than that, Erik. Her body really will need time to heal before you can engage in … intimate activities. Being a newlywed myself, I know how precious the honeymoon period can be." At his wife's words, Nadir reached out and took her hand in his, wondering for a moment, why they were not taking advantage of this time when everyone was out of the hotel room to continue their own honeymoon period.

As Erik took Antoinette's wise words under advisement, he gazed, once more, toward Jenna's room. She still seemed to be enjoying her visit, but Erik noticed how her eyes darted toward the door every once in a while_. She's looking for me_, he thought. A sudden sense of urgency washed over him. The boy had had his time alone with Jenna, but now Erik needed to be with her . . . _right_ now! He'd one enough sharing of his bride to be. "Daroga, Antoinette," Erik began, his eyes still trained on Jenna, "Would you two care to be introduced to your daughter's suitor?"

"Suitor, Erik?" Nadir asked, "Don't you think that word's a bit strong?"

"I saw first hand the way she stood by him through this whole … revelation. I do believe, Daroga, that one day there will be a doctor in your family."

"Oh my!" Antoinette raised a hand to her chest and gave a little gasp of pleasant surprise. "Let's go, Erik. I am very eager to meet him!"

Erik knocked to announce his presence before walking into the room. When Jenna saw him framed by the doorway, her eyes lit up and her arms opened wide. "Erik!" she cried, as he quickly crossed the room and bent low to enter her embrace. "I missed you," she murmured into his ear as she held him tightly, forgetting, for a moment, that there were others in the room.

"And I missed you, my love," he answered, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek and holding her close, lost for a moment, in the comfort of her arms.

"Wow," Nadir said, whistling loudly. "I thought he was unbearable when they were _apart_! Now he's nauseating!"

"Well Daroga," Erik said, reluctantly rising to a standing position, but taking hold of Jenna's hand. "You could always just stay away," he gave a saccharine smile.

"I wouldn't do that to you, Erik. I know you'd miss me terribly."

"Yes … _terribly_." Erik rolled his eyes.

"Oh, you two!" Jenna giggled. "Just like back at the lair!"

Chris blinked his eyes and shook his head, realizing once again, that there was a whole new reality he was going to have to get used to. But, Meg reached over and squeezed his hand, and he was reminded that he'd have someone with him to help along the way.

Clearing her throat, Antoinette addressed her daughter, "Meg, I would be pleased to make your friend's acquaintance."

Meg smacked her forehead with her hand. "Chris," she said, turning toward Antoinette, "I'd like you to meet my mother, Antoinette Kahn."

Chris leaned low to whisper in Meg's ear, "So this is the lovely lady who keeps worrying you're going to turn into a pumpkin?"

Meg giggled, and Antoinette narrowed her eyes for a moment. Chris handed Matthew back to Jenna, before walking over and shaking Antoinette's hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kahn," he said, extending his hand to give hers a firm shake.

"I am pleased to finally meet the man who has set his sights on my daughter," Antoinette answered with a pleasant smile.

"She is quite the lovely sight indeed," Chris responded, with a quick smile toward Meg, whose cheeks were pink with his flattery.

"How charming," Erik commented under his breath, though, secretly he was very pleased at the attention the young doctor was now showering on Meg. Perhaps his interests in Jenna were finally at an end.

Rolling his eyes at Erik, Nadir stepped forward and offered Chris his hand. "I'm Nadir Kahn, Meg's stepfather."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Kahn," Chris declared.

"Don't be so sure," Erik muttered once again, earning him a gentle smack from Jenna.

"Don't mind him," Nadir told Chris, never missing a beat. "He was raised by wolves."

When the young doctor smirked, Nadir gave him a collegial slap on the arm. "So, Doctor…"

"Please, call me Chris."

"And you may call me Nadir," Nadir answered.

"Daroga would be appropriate too," Erik interjected. "Blasted Persian works well for me." Another well-placed smack from Jenna, quieted his remarks, but her giggles told him he was not truly in trouble.

Sighing deeply, Nadir continued, "Chris, if you intend to pursue my stepdaughter, we have much to discuss. Firstly, it is probably not a good idea for you to be seen kissing her by the river. Gives her mother heartburn."

Meg looked to Antoinette with mortified eyes, but before her mother could intervene, Erik whispered softly, "Perhaps your discussion would be best held elsewhere. We appear to have a sleeping baby."

All eyes in the room turned toward little Matthew, who had drifted off to sleep in the comfort of his mother's arms, exhausted from all the activity he had experienced already in his young little life.

"Erik's right," Antoinette declared.

"_There's_ a first," Nadir muttered, earning him a glare from his wife.

"We should let them _rest_, dear," Antoinette told him.

"Are any of you hungry?" Chris inquired. "I'd love to take you out for a late dinner."

"That would be lovely, Chris," Meg answered for all of them.

They all walked over to Jenna to say their quiet goodbyes. As Nadir bent forward to give Jenna a peck on the forehead, she whispered to him, "Behave!" He simply winked at her in response.

"I'll see you soon," Chris told her, as he squeezed her hand.

"Promise."

Smiling, he assured her, "I will." Then looking at Erik, he simply said, "Thank you, Erik. And … congratulations."

Erik gave a tight smile, still feeling a bit awkward around him. "Thank you, doctor."

Once everyone was out of the room, and the door was closed behind them, Erik gently lifted Matthew out of Jenna's arms. Placing soft kisses upon his forehead, Erik carefully lowered him into the bassinet at the side of Jenna's bed. Then, with Jenna scooting over a bit to make room, he sat down next to her on the bed. "Mmmmm. . .," he hummed, folding her into his arms, "alone at last." He pulled her closer, kissing her deeply on the mouth.

Jenna sighed contentedly when they parted, and reached up to gently caress his exposed cheek. "That was nice," she purred.

"Would you like another?" he smiled into the question, certain he already knew the answer.

"Oh, yes, please," Jenna grinned, as Erik was already joining his lips once again with hers. Their kiss was long and lingering, full of joy and passion, and love—so much love.

This time, when they parted, Erik brushed some stray strands of hair away from her face, asking, "How are you feeling, my love?"

"A little sore," Jenna admitted. "But that seems to fade when you're here beside me."

Giving her a little squeeze, Erik tucked Jenna's head into the crook of his neck, and rested his own cheek on her hair. They spent a few silent moments, simply smiling and enjoying each other's company in the quiet of the once bustling hospital room. After a bit, Erik whispered, "Thank you, Jenna."

"Thank me?" she asked, surprised. "For what?"

"For the gift of your love," he murmured, kissing her lips tenderly once again.

"Thank you for finding your way back to me," she sighed, kissing him back. "Even if you were a little misguided at first."

"Thank you," he said, pulling away a bit, to look her directly in her eyes, "for the gift or our son. I hope you know I never would have wished him to be born out of wedlock. If things hadn't gone so … terrifyingly … wrong that night, I would have dragged you to the preacher first thing the next morning and married you then and there."

Jenna raised a flirty eyebrow, "_First_ thing in the morning?"

Erik felt a definite stirring at the scrumptious look on her face, and was forced to admit, that there might have been a slightly more pressing urge that morning upon first waking with her naked body in his arms. "Ok," he laughed, "perhaps _second_ thing. But the point I am trying to make" he continued, his eyes turning from playful to earnest, "is that I never wanted to be parted from you. Not for nine months—not even for a heartbeat. Please believe me, I wanted nothing more than to be with you forever."

"I know that, Erik…now." Jenna assured him. "And you wouldn't have had to drag me to that preacher. I would have _run_ with you. I wanted _nothing_ more than to be your wife."

Erik kissed her again, relishing the taste of her mouth, and the feel of her body so close to his. For so long he had simply repressed this amorous side of himself, and yet, it bloomed so effortlessly when he was in her presence. "My Jenna," he murmured, nuzzling her neck. "I cannot wait to marry you."

"Mmmmm. . ." she moaned, running her fingers through his hair, and pulling him even closer. "I don't want to wait another minute."

"Well you're going to have to wait at least another six weeks!" a female voice scolded from the doorway. Erik turned and glanced over his shoulder to see the labor and delivery nurse enter the room.

"So much for being alone," he muttered, as he righted himself.

"I just came in," she said in an authoritative tone, "to give you some instructions before you take Baby Matthew home."

"And when will that be?" Erik asked.

"Tomorrow." she responded. "Looks like everything went very well with the birth, and Matthew looks perfect, so in the morning, you'll be free to go.

Jenna looked up at Erik with excitement in her eyes. "That's wonderful!" Erik smiled at her and squeezed her hand.

"If, that is, you meet these conditions," added the nurse, launching into her checklist of things they would need before bringing the baby home. They listened carefully and as Jenna nodded and responded to each one, Erik was struck by how much _preparation_ went into having a baby these days. _Certainly, Matthew, you have been loved and anticipated since the moment your mother knew you existed, _Erik thought. He was heartened to be reminded once again that his son's childhood was going to be so different from his own.

"Now, Jenna," the older woman continued, lowering her voice to a hush once she had gotten to the end of her list, "you know your body needs time to heal."

"I know that, Madge," Jenna sighed good-naturedly.

"Just you don't forget it, now that," she gave a disdainful sidelong glance in Erik's direction. _"He's _suddenly back."

"I will be _fine_, Madge."

"You see to it that she is!" the nurse snapped in Erik's direction, before turning and walking out of the room.

Erik stared after her a moment before turning to Jenna and stating, "That woman is a fool!"

"Now Erik," Jenna began to protest. "She was only doing her job!"

"And I am only doing my duty as your future husband," Erik responded, turning once again to take her fully into his arms, "by pointing out that you do not need _me_ to make sure you are fine. You are fine by nature," he added huskily. "If fact, you are irresistible."

"Oh, Erik," she moaned into his lips, as he kissed her deeply, once again. "These next six weeks are going to be so _hard_."

"Oh, Mademoiselle," he moaned, as he buried his head in her shoulder. "You have no idea."

**Heh heh heh. Ok, so we had a little banter and a little fluff, and a very annoying nurse barging in and ruining Erik and Jenna's romantic moment. So they have to plan a wedding-but medically, they have to wait six weeks before they can be fully "man and wife." So do you think they're going to make it? Tune in tomorrow to see how they do when they bring home baby. :) **

**Please review and let me know what you think! :)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Well, now that Chris has made amends with Erik, Jenna and Meg, and somehow survived meeting the parents, and now that Erik and Jenna have escaped the nurse in the hospital, let's see how they are doing at home with baby. Get ready for just a little fluff in this chapter too. I hope you enjoy!**

CH 16:

"There you go, Matthew," Erik murmured to his son, as he leaned over to place him gently in Jenna's arms. "Mama's got breakfast ready."

Jenna rolled her eyes and gave him a little smirk as she happily stretched out her arms to welcome her baby boy.

"Hello my darling," she said to him as he began to suckle away, gazing up at her with his marvelous two tone eyes. "Have you and daddy been having fun all night? How many symphonies have you written together? Hmmm?"

"Exactly three and a half," Erik informed her, smiling and kissing her cheek. "His rondo for the third one was inspired, but he decided he needed breakfast before we tackled the minuet for the fourth one."

"You've kept Daddy busy all night, Matthew," she scolded goodnaturedly, leaning over to place a sweet kiss on his forehead. "You've got to give him some time to rest."

Erik snickered, as he sat down next to Jenna on the couch. "Oh, Jenna, you know I don't need as much sleep as you do." He reached his hand out and stroked Matthew's little head. "Besides I love my bonding time with my little man."

Jenna tore her eyes away from Matthew's momentarily to steal a glance at the other love of her life. Clad in pajama bottoms, and hair slightly tousled, he was a vision that filled her with joy. At her request, Erik did not wear his mask in the apartment, and seeing how comfortable he was being so completely open with her filled her heart to bursting. _This_ was the life she had dreamed of—a life made complete by Erik's exhilarating presence, and the sweetness of the child created from their love.

"I love you, Erik," she blurted, simply because she had to at that moment, and his lips curled up into that beautiful smile that she had long adored, as he responded "I love you too," leaning in for a morning kiss. It was a little taste of heaven between them—a bliss that had been too long deferred. Every kiss, every touch from Erik was a treasure to Jenna's heart, and some days she still could not believe how lucky she was, to have Erik with her, and to be able to raise their son together. Her family. _Their_ family.

Already, she cherished the life they had built in the week it had been since they'd brought Matthew home from the hospital. Erik had immediately moved into Jenna's apartment, stating that even though they were not yet wed, he refused to miss out on one more minute of their lives together. They spent their days caring for Matthew, and adjusting to life with a baby. There was a bit of a learning curve, and Erik had been somewhat tentative at first, afraid that somehow he would do something wrong and hurt his son. But with her gentle encouragement, Erik soon realized that he loved caring for Matthew, especially at night.

Matthew, it turned out, was as much of a night owl as his father. After the first few exhausting nights, Erik eagerly sent Jenna to bed between feedings, and happily spent time with his son. He would sing to Matthew. He would read to him. Sometimes he would just sit in the nursery rocking chair and hold him. Matthew, it seemed, didn't really have a preference. As long as he was in his father's arms, Matthew would gaze up at Erik, with adoring eyes, content to simply be loved. And Erik was fast discovering that he was a natural at doing just that.

Loving Jenna and his child seemed to come so naturally to him—as if the instinct to do so was woven directly into his being. It was an astonishing new reality for Erik—especially after the bleakness that his life had been before Jenna had arrived on his lakeshore—but one which he wholeheartedly embraced. He would not trade these mundane days of changing diapers, and quieting fussy cries for all of the most opulent opera houses in the world. In this new life with Jenna and Matthew, he had found his true reason for living.

And yet, some things never changed. Nadir and Antoinette visited daily. While Antoinette perfected the role of doting grandmother to Matthew, Nadir always managed to work Erik up into a fierce temper, stealing the overstuffed chair in the living room that Erik had claimed as his own, and helping himself to food in Jenna's fridge. Erik had enjoyed, perhaps overly much, the day when Red, Jenna's very precocious feline, gave the Persian a swat for trying to rub his belly. Erik gave the cat extra treats that night after dinner, as a way to say thank you, while Ayesha had enjoyed extra scratches behind the ears-just because.

Meg and Chris were also frequent visitors. Meg was already gushing about how excited she was for the wedding, and asking Jenna if she had thought about her dress. Chris was spoiling Baby Matthew with toys, and was, surprisingly, able to occupy the same room as Erik without either of them feeling the need to commit murder. The quietly cordial relationship the two were developing made Jenna very pleased, and gave her hope that one day they could be friends. Erik still mostly tolerated the young doctor for Jenna's sake, but it became easier each time he saw the young man take Meg's hand, or when he caught their furtive glances filed with affection. The young man's heart certainly seemed to be on the right track.

Of course, Jenna's favorite part of the day always came when the guests would leave, and Matthew, exhausted, would go down for a nap. This was Erik and Jenna's time for each other.

Erik would always make Jenna a cup of tea—using tea bags these days, which was quite amusing the first time he tried. ("Now, I can see why you gave me a cup of liquid dirt that first night, Jenna," he'd told her as she'd rolled her eyes.) They would sit close on the couch, sipping their tea, talking and cuddling. Often their cuddles would give over to thrilling kisses and tender caresses, leaving them both yearning for far more than what Jenna's body could handle at the moment. But they forced themselves to be content with whatever physical expression of their love they had right now. It had not been long ago that they had both been so sure they would never see one another again. Neither of them had ever been so happy about being wrong. The universe had given them back to one another, and it was a blessing they would cherish—together—for the rest of their lives.

When Matthew had finished eating, and had finally drifted off to rest, after a night of fun with Dad, Jenna carefully carried him to the nursery and placed him in his crib for a short morning nap. When she returned to the couch, Erik held his arms open for her, and she happily took her place on his lap. "Well," she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck. "He's sound asleep now."

"Can't say that I'm surprised," Erik responded, tightening his arms around her waist. "After such a scrumptious feast, I am sure he is quite content. I certainly would be."

Smiling at his naughty joke, Jenna brought her lips to his for a full, deep kiss. "You will get your turn, Erik," she murmured. "I promise."

"I can hardly wait," he rumbled against her lips, as his hand reached up to tangle in her hair.

They sat there together, wrapped in each other's embrace, enjoying the quiet moments of bliss that Matthew was granting them. Erik's lips were sensuously nipping at Jenna's throat when they heard a knock at the door.

"Go away," Erik murmured, continuing his passionate journey.

"Erik," Jenna protested halfheartedly, really not wanting to put an end to this exhilarating moment. "It might be Nadir."

"Go away _now_!" Erik called, as he placed heated kisses along her collarbone.

Jenna moaned in agonizing indecision—continue this intoxicating interlude, or go to see who was at the door. But when Erik unraveled the tie on her nightshirt with his teeth, she made her decision. Whoever was at the door could come back later.

Jenna trailed her fingers down Erik's chest, earning her a gasp of pleasure when her nails grazed his nipples. She had just reached the waistband on his pajama pants when there was another pounding on the door.

"Hey, yo, Batman! Let me in."

Erik's passion was immediately cooled, as he rolled his eyes and said, "Damn!"

"Batman?" Jenna asked him, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Don't ask!" he muttered, as he gently removed Jenna from his lap. "I'm coming!" he called to the door. To Jenna, he just said, "Go and get dressed, darling. I need to let him in."

"Who is he?" she asked on her way to the bedroom.

"Oh, um, just a construction worker with … connections," he told her, getting up and reaching for his robe.

"You've got some explaining to do later…Batman," she said, with a wink, closing the bedroom door.

Erik made his way to the door, cursing Adolfo's horrendous timing. Taking his mask from the entryway table, he tied it onto his face and opened the door.

"Hey, Batman!" came the loud greeting from the large man on the other side of the door, as he pushed his way jovially into the apartment and clasped Erik's arm in greeting. "Still in your robe?" he commented. "Wha . . .—did I wake ya?"

"No," Erik informed him. "I was already up. With an infant in the house, we do tend to be up at all hours."

"Yeah, that's right!" he responded, as if only just remembering. "I went to the hotel and that other guy—what's his name…" he looked down and started snapping his fingers trying to remember some elusive piece of information. "Naboo … Nabob…"

Erik could barely breathe from trying to contain his laughter, but forcing himself to regain his composure, supplied, "Nadir?"

"Yeah, _that's_ it! Nadir. He told me that you had moved across town with your fiance' and new baby." Then added, "You have a baby?"

"Indeed," Erik confirmed. "My son Matthew was born last week—shortly after we spoke."

"Hey," he bellowed loudly, patting Erik again, hard on the back. "Congratulations! Where is the little tyke?"

Erik smiled stiffly. "He is _sleeping_ at the moment, Mr. Adolfo." Erik said pointedly, but just as he did, he heard the little tell-tale whimpers that told Erik his son's post breakfast rest was no more.

"Hey! Did'ya hear that?" Vinny said, pointing in the direction of the bedrooms. "Sounds like he's up."

"Yes," Erik sighed. "It does."

Moments later, the door to the bedroom opened and Jenna emerged, holding a sleepy eyed Matthew in her arms.

"Um, hello," she said to the stranger talking to Erik.

"Hey!" he gave a little wave, and then, more quietly to Erik he asked, "Is this your girl?"

Erik could not suppress a smile when he looked over at Jenna and affirmed, "Yes, Mr. Adolfo. This is…my girl. Jenna."

Still looking at Jenna, whose face had blushed slightly hearing what Erik had said, Vinny responded, "Oh, she's a beauty!"

"Believe me," Erik answered, his eyes never leaving Jenna. "I am well aware."

"You better take good care o' her!" he said.

"That's my plan," he shot Jenna another smile.

"So, Batman," Jenna said, gently teasing Erik, already wondering when they could get Matthew to take another nap so they could continue their encounter from earlier. "Are you going to introduce me to your…" she trailed off, not quite knowing the relationship her affianced had to this well dressed man.

"Business associate," the man provided, firmly grasping her upper arms and leaning in to place a quick kiss on each one of her cheeks. Erik stiffened when he saw the greeting, but Jenna shot him a pointed glance that told him he should let it go. "I'm a business associate of your. . .a . . .husband to be, here. He did me a good turn, now I'm doing one for him."

"I see," she answered, pleasantly, eager to get Erik alone to find out what this man was talking about.

"So, uh," he said, turning back to Erik, and reaching into the breast pocket of his suit, "I got your papers right here." He handed Erik a lumpy manila envelope. "There's also a little cash in there—from me. It's a thank you gift—like I told ya—for helping out my little brother. If I'd have known about the baby I would have thrown in a little extra."

"I thank you," Erik said, opening up the envelope and finding four identification cards, and a large wad of cash. "Any more would have been entirely unnecessary."

"Hey!" Adolfo threw up his hands as if to say it was not a big deal. "If I say it's necessary, it's necessary! I like you, Batman! And when I like, I give!"

"Thank you," Erik responded.

"So," Vinny continued, turning toward Jenna and booping Matthew's nose. "Cute kid you got here."

"Thank you, sir," Jenna turned so that he could see Matthew better, while still wondering what the heck was going on.

"So when's the wedding?" he asked.

Looking over at Erik, she responded, "We haven't quite decided yet. But soon."

"Oh, that's nice. Will it be here, or in your new home?" he asked.

"Erik," Jenna asked. "What new home? What is he talking about?"

"We have decided," Erik said, with a little laugh, putting a hand on Vincent's shoulder, and steering him away from Jenna, "not to leave New York."

"Leave New York?" Jenna echoed.

"But you're still takin' the names, right?"

This time Jenna only stared at Erik. He gave her a pleading glance, and to Vincent said, "Yes, Mr. Adolfo. We will use the names. Thank you."

"Alright." He said, smiling at Erik once again. "Well, I expect an invite to the weddin', ya'hear, Batman?"

"Of course, Mr. Adolfo," Erik nodded.

"Alright," Vincent said, patting Erik on the back once again. "I'm gonna leave you two lovebirds alone! So long!" he gave Jenna two more kisses on the cheek, and turned to go.

When he was out the door, Jenna asked, "Erik? What on earth? Do you know who that man was? Do you know _what_ he does?"

Erik sighed and led Jenna and Matthew back over to the couch. "When I was working at the hotel one day, I saw a young man about to be beaten by an overgrown thug. I came to his aid. It turned out that boy was Vincent Adolfo's brother, and Vincent now felt that he was in my debt.

"Just before you came to me, Jenna, I had decided to leave New York. Being so close to you, and feeling that I couldn't go to you was driving me insane. I was going to go away from here, and start a new life. Adolfo had made it clear that he could help me procure many things—including new identities. So I called him—and almost immediately upon hanging up the phone you knocked on my door, and all thoughts of leaving were gone."

Jenna looked down and swallowed hard. "I came so close to losing you again."

"But you didn't." Erik reminded her, cupping her cheek. "And now you never will. Besides," he added, with a smile. "I do believe these new identities will come in handy."

"Oh really?" She asked him, not quite following his logic.

"Well, Meg, Nadir and Antoinette could use their new names to get better jobs, since as of now, we have no identification to show to employers. And I," he said, taking her hand in his. "Can use mine to obtain a marriage license."

Jenna's eyes lit up. "A marriage license!"

"That's right, Jenna," he said with a mirthful laugh. "We have a wedding to plan!"

"We do!" she laughed along with him and leaned forward to receive a quick kiss.

"So do you want to know what your new last name will be?" Erik asked her, hand on the envelope he'd been given by Adolfo.

"Of course!" She said, excited.

Erik tore open the envelope and found his identification card. "Erik D'Angiel."

"Oh, I like it!" Jenna gushed. "Hey, how does this sound? Matthew D'Angiel. Jenna D'Angiel …"

Erik leaned forward and gave her another kiss before answering. "Sounds just like heaven."

**Awwww. Our Angel's in heaven. :) Well, how do you think Erik rates as a dad? Pretty awesome, I'd say! And in this case, the mob is not so bad. Vinny came through for Erik. You'll see a little more of him in the rest of the story. I hope you liked your dose of fluff. A little more of that to come before the wedding. And then, a LOT more! ;) Please let me know what you thought! :)**


	18. Chapter 18

**So, we liked the fluff last chapter? Ready for more? :)**

CH 17

The weeks passed quickly with Matthew growing by leaps and bounds each day. As enamored as Erik was with him during the days immediately following his birth, he was shocked to discover that his son only continued to fascinate him more and more each day as time went on. His new and inquisitive eyes were watching things very carefully now, and he was making new, precious sounds all the time. And only a couple of weeks ago, he had learned how to play!

Jenna had provided him with a brightly colored mat that had several soft animal toys hanging from a curved bar above, and three little piano keys at the end_. A play gym_, she called it. She told him that she had purchased this particular one because the toy piano reminded her of him. Erik loved watching Matthew lie on his back and kick his legs to make music, while waving his arms at the creatures dangling above him, cooing the whole time. Often, Erik would lie down on the floor next to him, encouraging him and smiling at him as he played. Just recently, Matthew had learned how to smile back and giggle—a sound that filled his heart to bursting.

Erik was still overcome by having this perfect little person in his life—a person he had a very active part in creating. How could someone so amazing and remarkable come from him? How could beauty issue forth from ugliness? But Erik knew the answer. Matthew had been born from the love he and Jenna had discovered and shared—a love so pure and true that it had created perfection.

And thankfully, _perfection_ had finally started sleeping for somewhat longer intervals during the night. This development proved both exhilarating and frustrating, because since Matthew didn't need constant nighttime tending, Jenna began to insist that Erik join her in bed…something he was not certain his limited restraint was ready for.

That first night, when Jenna was able to put Matthew in his crib, and they both watched his tired little eyelids flutter closed, they could hardly believe it. They retired to the living room and sat on the couch a long while, leaning forward, listening intently for little telltale cries and whimpers that would announce their son's desire for company. But when all remained quiet, their vigil had turned to couple time, and, as often happened when he was alone with Jenna, Erik found himself clutching a throw pillow on his lap, to try and hide the burning, aching need he felt for her.

Jenna had known exactly what he was doing, and he was holding himself back because she still had some recovering to do. Placing one hand on the pillow, she whispered, alluringly, as she kissed him soundly on the lips, "Let me help you, Erik." As she began to pull his barrier away—and he began to let her—she added, "Just because my body isn't quite ready, doesn't mean we _both_ have to suffer."

It took every ounce of strength he had in his body, but Erik pulled away, setting the pillow back in its place, while explaining to her, "No, Jenna. I don't want this to be only about _my_ needs, and _my_ fulfillment."

"But Erik," she assured him. "I _want_ to touch you. I want bring you pleasure."

"You do," he whispered with a smile, as he traced the outline of her cheek with his thumb. "With your laugh—with your smiles…just knowing how much you love me brings me more pleasure than I had ever dreamed I would know." He leaned forward and kissed her lips once more, before adding huskily, "but if you were to touch me, I would want to touch you back. When we make love, it cannot just be about _me_. I want it to be about _us—_just like it was the first time. I want to make you tremble with desire," he groaned, nipping her neck lightly, eliciting a soft moan. "And shudder in release. And I want you," he continued, pulling back to gaze deeply into her eyes so that she could see the love and passion that were evident behind his, "to be my _wife_. So that we can be truly one—in every sense of the word."

Jenna felt herself very near to trembling in that very moment, as she saw the tenderness mingled with desire in Erik's eyes. "Alright, Erik," she nodded, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "We only have to wait a little while longer."

"That's true," he promised, fixing her with an intense stare. "In a few short weeks, you will be healed, and we will be married, and there will be _no_ stopping me."

Jenna felt heat rush through her body at his words, wondering, once again, how six weeks could feel so long. Rising from the couch, she said, "I think he's going to sleep for a bit. We should probably take advantage of it by sleeping ourselves while we can."

"You're right, Jenna," Erik said, lovingly, still not rising from the couch. "Sleep well."

Swallowing hard, in a failed attempt to rid herself of the lump in her throat, she extended her hand and asked, "Join me? We'll hear him if he wakes, and even though we can't make love, I want to feel you hold me as I sleep."

And so the challenge was made—the gauntlet thrown. Erik rose from the couch, walking to the bedroom with Jenna to see if he could put his will power where his mouth was when it came to being so close to her in such an intimate setting. Climbing under the covers, he lay with her, gently stroking her hair, as she snuggled close. He watched her quietly, adoring the serenity on her face, as her eyes fluttered shut and she drifted off to sleep. It was absolute bliss to feel her soft curves pressed so tightly against him, and pure torment not to be able to follow his instincts and ravish her on the spot. Feeling as if he was going to explode, he turned to his other side, away from her, hoping that would calm him, but his arms only ached from the lack of holding her, and his chest longed for her warmth. Finally, he faced her again, wrapping his arms tightly around her, relishing the feeling of her exquisite body against his. It was delicious torture, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. And after an excruciatingly long while, Erik himself finally fell asleep. Only to have Matthew cry out for him what seemed like moments later.

The weeks continued to pass – at an excruciatingly slow pace – but Matthew's newfound love for sleep afforded Erik and Jenna more intimate moments and more quiet time. They would lie in bed at night, dreaming of their future, both imminent and far off, wondering how life would treat them.

"Do you think we'll have more children, Erik?" Jenna asked, as they lay cuddled in bed waiting for slumber to take them.

"If we don't, it won't be for want of trying," he responded, pulling her tightly against him.

"Maybe a brother for Matthew" she continued to daydream at their future possibilities, "—someone he can run around with and play ball with."

"I can, and will, do all those things with Matthew," Erik informed her. "I would like a little girl," he said in hushed, awed tones. "One who has a head full of curls that blaze like the sun, and aqua colored eyes that are the envy of both the sky and the sea alike. And a rosebud shaped mouth…" he murmured, deep and low, "—just like her mother, who I simply cannot stop kissing." He pressed his lips to hers for a few blissful moments, pulling back only when he began to feel desire flare within him again. "Of course" he added, matter-of-factly, "if anyone ever tries to kiss her the way I kiss you, I will have to kill them."

Jenna laughed. "You have just plotted the demise of our theoretical daughter's theoretical boyfriend before she has even been conceived."

Erik's lips turned up in a crooked smirk. "Theoretically, he has had fair warning, then."

Jenna giggled and kissed him sweetly once again on the lips. "I love you Erik. And I already love our life together."

Kissing her back, he whispered, "And I will love our future, because no matter what it brings, _we_ will be together."

* * *

Jenna came into the living room, after laying Matthew down for the night, to find Erik staring out the window. "Erik, honey," she said, walking over to him, and placing her hand on his back. "Are you ready to go? Nadir and the boys will be here any minute to pick you up for your night on the town."

Turning to her, he rolled his eyes and said, "Don't remind me."

Jenna giggled and gave him a little hug. "Oh come on, grumpy!" she said, smiling up at him. "It'll be fun! It's tradition for the groom to go out and have a good time the night before the wedding to celebrate his last night of freedom."

"Jenna," Erik asked in a perplexed tone as he cupped her cheek with his hands. "Why would I ever want to celebrate _freedom? _After all the time I was forced to spend without you, I want nothing in the world more than to be with you for the rest of my life."

"I know," Jenna said, her heart melting once again to hear how much Erik loved her. "And we _will_ be together for the rest of our lives. After tomorrow, nothing will keep us apart. But it's _tradition _that the groom should not see the bride before the ceremony on the wedding day. It's bad luck."

"Impossible, Jenna," Erik protested once more, placing his hands on her shoulders, "My fortune changed for the better the moment you landed on my lakeshore. And," he added in a husky, hushed voice, bending low to her ear. "Since your doctor gave you a clean bill of health this morning, I can see _nothing_ unlucky about us being together tonight." With that, he nibbled a bit at her earlobe, nuzzling her neck warmly.

With every touch of Erik's lips on her throat, Jenna was finding it increasingly difficult to argue with his logic. Even with their intimate kisses and cuddling over these past six weeks, it had been far too long since they had been one. But after a moment of enjoying his exquisite kisses, she pushed him gently away with a groan. "Erik," she said breathily. "We should save something for our wedding night, don't you think?"

"We could practice. . ." he countered, placing his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. "As every musician knows, practice makes _perfect_."

Taking a deep breath to try and calm her own desires, she said in a shaky voice, "We have the rest of our lives to practice. Over, and over, and over again," she gave him a pointed look. "But Erik, I want to miss you tonight, for the last time ever. And I want you to miss me. And tomorrow, when you see me in my wedding gown, I want to take your breath away."

"Jenna," he whispered huskily, "You've been depriving me of breath for over a hundred years." Jenna smiled, a little color coming to her cheeks. "But you are also the one who keeps my heart beating," Erik said, releasing her from his hold. "And since you are _insistent_ upon traditions, I will bid you adieu until the morning and spend the evening with the doctor, the mobster, and the blasted Persian. But before I do," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular white box, "A wedding gift for my bride."

"Oh Erik," she sighed. "You really didn't have to do this."

"But, Mademoiselle," he said warmly, smiling when he realized this was truly the last time he would ever be able to call her that. "I believe there is a wedding _tradition_ that says the bride should wear something old on her wedding day. This gift will certainly qualify as that."

Jenna opened her box to see a beautiful cameo, carved with a rosebud just about to burst into bloom, hung from a black velvet ribbon. It was the very same cameo that Erik had given her beneath the opera house—the cameo that she had left behind.

Tears immediately sprang to Jenna's eyes, as she whispered, "Oh Erik."

"Jenna," Erik began, his own voice thick with emotion. "When I found this lying by the lakeshore, I knew you were really gone. I felt like my heart was being torn from my body."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, crying softly as she remembered the pain of that day. "I'm so sorry."

"It was all I had left of you, Jenna, so I kept it with me at all times—in a pocket close to my heart. It was the only way I could hold you near. But now, I give it back to you, because I'd much rather keep _you_ close to my heart instead."

Jenna threw her arms around his neck, weeping tears of joy, "I love you, Erik."

"I love you, My Jenna—my _heart_." He kissed her then, tenderly and sweetly. "Will you wear this tomorrow, as a sign of our love?"

"I will wear it forever," she said, with a smile on her face. "Will you put it on for me?"

"Oh, my darling," he sighed. "I thought you would never ask."

Jenna lifted her hair, so that Erik could tie the ribbon around her neck, as he had once before—on that magical night when their hearts became one, and their child was conceived. "I cannot wait to be your wife." She murmured, when the knot was tied, joining her lips once more with his.

This time, when the knock came at the door, it was Jenna who muttered, "Go away!"

Breathing heavily, Erik reluctantly pulled away. "_Tradition_, Jenna—remember?"

"I don't care about tradition anymore, Erik." Jenna moaned. "I just want you with me."

Fingering the necklace he had just placed upon her neck, he whispered, "My heart is always with you. It has been with you since the day I first laid eyes on you," and they kissed once more, until a voice pealed through the door.

"Will you two lovebirds knock it off?" Nadir called out. "You're getting married tomorrow morning. It's not like you're saying goodbye forever!"

Erik pulled away from Jenna with a sour look on his face. "He may not last the night, you know."

"It is decidedly against tradition to murder your best man, Erik," Jenna scolded lightheartedly.

"I could start a new tradition," Erik countered, giving her a raised eyebrow and a sexy smirk "Then come back home to you."

"No," Jenna giggled, as she turned toward the door to finally greet their guests.

Antoinette and Meg entered first giving Jenna excited hugs. They would be spending the evening with her, so they could help her with Matthew during the night, to allow Jenna to get the rest she needed to be ready in the morning. Next came the men who would be whisking away her future husband for the night. "Jenna, my dear," Nadir greeted her, with a kiss on her hand. Chris followed suit with a warm hug, and Vinny once again kissed her soundly on both cheeks.

"Do any of you gentlemen—and I use that term loosely—realize that she is spoken for?" Erik asked, his annoyance at their familiarity beginning to show.

"Not until tomorrow, Batman!" Vinny retorted.

"Now that's where you're wrong, Mr. Adolfo," Jenna chimed in, beaming happily up at Erik. "The moment I met Erik, I was fully and irrevocably taken."

Erik gazed into her adoring eyes and felt his heart thrill at such a public declaration of her feelings for him. He was reminded, once again, that Jenna was his very own miracle.

"Come on, now, Erik," Nadir cajoled, understanding completely that the very last thing his friend wanted to do that night was leave the woman he loved. "I know it's hard to leave her. I am making a sacrifice too—for I will be spending tonight away from my sweet Antoinette." He looked over at his wife and blew her a kiss.

"And I," Chris interjected, "must spend the night away from my darling Meg."

When both Antoinette and Nadir glared at him, Chris added, "Which I would be doing anyway, but still," he smiled at his now blushing girlfriend. "I shall miss her."

"Alright, you big sissies!" Vinny urged. "Let's get a move on. It's time for us to take our boy Batman on the town! Benny is waiting for us at the bar." And with that, he kissed Jenna, Antoinette, and Meg on both cheeks and walked out the door. Following suit, Nadir embraced Antoinette for a goodnight kiss, and Chris hugged Meg goodbye, earning himself a short but sweet peck on the lips. The two men then stepped outside to wait in the hallway, while Meg and Antoinette busied themselves in the kitchen.

"I love you, Jenna," Erik whispered, cupping her cheek and leaning low for a kiss.

"And I love you, my Erik." Their lips met in a sweet goodbye.

When Nadir cleared his throat loudly before peeking his head in the door, Erik and Jenna pulled away.

"You bring him back to me on time, Nadir!" Jenna warned her friend, although she knew it was not necessary.

"I don't think wild horses could keep him away!" Chris interjected, from the doorway.

"The doctor has that right," Erik agreed. "Until tomorrow, my bride," he whispered, gallantly kissing her hand.

"Until tomorrow," Jenna gushed, as she watched the three men make their way out the door.

**Awww, she has her cameo again! So sweet. I bet she never takes it off! **

**But now, The boys are taking Erik out for a bachelor party. Yikes! Do you think he's ready for this? **


	19. Chapter 19

**You are all cordially invited to Erik's bachelor party! There's plenty of room in the limo, so hop in for a fun night on the town!**

CH 18

The room was dark, and smoky and the noise that passed for music in the twenty first century was relentlessly assaulting Erik's ears. "_This_ is where you are taking me to celebrate?" Erik asked? "I would much rather go back to your apartment," Erik moaned, recalling the small, quiet place—with two bedrooms—that Nadir and Antoinette had begun renting as soon as Adolfo's money had come in.

"Come on, Batman!" Vinny responded, ushering Erik and the others inside. "This is your bachelor party! You need to lighten up."

"Oh, Erik doesn't do light," Nadir quipped. "And he doesn't party. In fact, unless he's in Jenna's direct presence, he doesn't really smile either."

"My lasso would make me smile right about now." Erik muttered under his breath.

"Jenna's right about you two, you know," Chris interjected, with a laugh. "You really are like a married couple."

"Nah!" Nadir countered. "I'll stick with Antoinette. Erik's too needy. Besides, he probably snores."

"Itchy fingers, Daroga," Erik scowled.

"Save 'em for Jenna!" Nadir patted Erik on the back, and winked, as his friend's exposed cheek reddened quite nicely.

Just then, a buxom young woman, wearing a tight low cut t-shirt and short shorts leaving very little to the imagination, approached them. "Hey, fellas. Looking for a table?"

Erik, shocked by the outfit, whispered to Nadir, "She should be looking for some clothes."

"No," Nadir shook his head, "No she shouldn't."

"Yeah, Trixie," Vinny answered, obviously on a first name basis with the blonde standing before them. "This here is my business associate," he said, gesturing toward Erik, who still had a dismayed look on his face. "And he's getting married in the morning."

"OH, fun!" Trixie absolutely squealed, bouncing up and down a bit. "A bachelor party!"

"Kill me, or get me out of here right now," Erik pleaded, this time to Chris, hoping the younger, gentler man might see reason.

"No can do, Erik." Chris responded. "Jenna gave me strict orders to make sure you have a good time."

"But this is _not_ my idea of a good time."

"Oh, just relax!" Chris told him, as they began to follow the waitress to their table. "You'll survive, and soon, you'll be watching Jenna walk toward you in her wedding dress!"

Erik took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves.

"What can I get you boys to drink?" Trixie asked, once they were finally at their table.

"A shot of cognac," said Nadir.

"Rum and coke," said Vinny

"Scotch, single malt. Neat," answered Chris.

"Coffee," Erik said, plainly. "Black."

The others looked at Erik aghast. "Coffee?" Vinny asked, as if Erik had 3 heads.

"Yes," Erik answered, "Coffee. Strong, black, coffee."

"Uh huh." Vinny said. Then to the waitress, he muttered, "Irish it up a little," before handing her the cash to cover their order.

Erik took a seat with his back to a wall, pulling his fedora down low. Drunken men and women, as scantily clad as their waitress, swirled all around him. On the small dance floor in the back, couples gyrated together, leaving very little doubt as to what their intentions were for one another later in the night. Every so often, a loud shriek of laughter would pierce through the wall of throbbing sound all around him.

"So," Vinny asked, "Are you ready to put on the ol' Ball and Chain tomorrow?"

Rolling his eyes, Erik responded, "If you mean to ask if I am ready to marry the love of my life, then the answer is yes. I have been waiting for tomorrow for a very long time."

"I know we didn't exactly get off on the best start," Chris began, "But I truly am excited for you, Erik. You make Jenna very happy!"

"Well, doctor," Erik answered, with a polite smile. "That is my goal."

The waitress brought their drinks and placed them down at the table, making sure to bend low, to flash Erik a full view of her assets. Averting his eyes, Erik reached for his cup.

"Hey, hey, wait a minute, wait a minute!" Vinny stopped him from drinking. "I propose a toast. To Erik! The most 'taken' groom on the Island of Manhattan!" The others giggled a bit as Vinny finished. "May he and his beautiful bride live many long, happy years together."

"Cheers!" Chris responded, holding his glass up high.

"Here, here!" Nadir chimed in, raising his glass as well.

They all took sips of their drinks, Erik coughing a little as he tasted the "Irish" in his coffee. With a roll of his eyes, he decided to let it go. Even though all he really wanted was to be at home with his fiancé, he knew these men meant well. And while he was still feeling a bit grumpy inside at being separated from his love, he vowed to try and enjoy himself. But he was _not_ going to gawk at the barely dressed waitresses and barmaids. He did have some limits.

As they set their drinks down, Vinny looked around the bar. Turning back to the rest of them, he muttered, "I wonder what's keeping Benny. He was supposed to be here by now."

As if on cue, a large man, in a suit walked into the bar, and began to approach them. Erik recognized him as the same thug he had taken down with his lasso weeks ago, although his nose looked a bit more crooked, and there was a scar above his left eye.

"You may want to look behind you," Erik said quietly, sizing up the situation. But before Vinny could move, he heard a hush come over the establishment.

"Hey! Adolfo!" Paulie said, when he got close. "I heard you was gonna be here—with that goon of yours."

"Paulie," Vinny said, turning around in his seat, to assess the situation. "I see your eye healed up nicely—just a little scar. Your nose is gonna need some professional help, though. Got a little facia bruta going on there."

Nadir tried to decipher what Vinny was saying, but was completely confused. Leaning over to Chris, he whispered, "_What_ did he just say?"

With a nervous look on his face, Chris gave Vinny and Paulie a sidelong glance before answering, "Something in Italian. I think he told him he has an ugly face."

Erik lowered his head, wishing with all his heart that he could be anywhere else right now. He did not like how things were beginning to sound.

"Very funny, you big mortadella!" he responded.

"And now…" Chris muttered to Nadir with his face in his hands, "Paulie just called Vinny a giant sausage."

"But I bet you're not going to be laughing too hard" Paulie continued, "When you see the delivery I have to make." With that, he called out, "Niko! Gianni!"

Two more suit clad ruffians walked up behind Paulie, and much to Erik's dismay, they were dragging Vinny's younger brother Benny by the collar. The younger man had obviously been beaten, his left eye blackened, his lip swollen.  
"Hey! Get your paws off my brother!" Vinny demanded, rising from seat.

Paulie laughed, and said, "Ok." He snapped his fingers and the other two goons let go of the younger man, who fell at to the floor at their feet.

Chris was immediately at his side, assessing his wounds, as Paulie smirked at Vinny and said, "Payback's a bitch, ain't it?"

Vinny's punch connected with Paulie's face and complete mayhem broke out in the bar. Fists were thrown, chairs were broken and bottles smashed on the floor. Erik helped Chris drag Benny behind the table, so that the wounded man would be out of the path of the melee. Nadir huddled behind the table with them.

"How is it that trouble just seems to find you everywhere you go, Erik?" he asked, in complete amazement of what had broken out around them. "Even a hundred years later, situations still explode when you're around."

"I had nothing to do with this, Daroga!" Erik said, then remembering when he had punjabbed Paulie to save Benny's life, added. "Well, very little."

Chris turned to stare at him, incredulous at what he was hearing.

The fighting continued around them, and seemed to encompass almost all of the patrons in the bar before Erik saw a group of men and women wearing dark blue uniforms and brandishing guns before them, burst through the doors of the bar.

"NYPD!" the woman shouted. "Break it up! Break it up!"

"Oh no," Chris sighed. "The cops!"

Immediately, the ruckus started to dissipate, as fighters began to withdraw to their respective corners of the bar. One of the officers, a tall, dark skinned woman, focused a hard glare on Vinny, and walked purposefully over to him, while her colleagues dealt with the rest of the patrons.

"Well, if it ain't Vincent Adolfo," she said, arms crossed over her chest. "I should have known you'd be involved. Trouble follows wherever you go."

"That sounds familiar," Nadir muttered under his breath, earning him an elbow to the ribs from Erik.

"Hey, listen, Chiambi's goon is the one responsible for this. My friends and I," Vinny said, defensively, gesturing with his arm toward their table, where Erik Chris and Nadir were till hovered over Benny, "were just having a quick drink, minding our own business, when he showed up with my little brother, all beat to a pulp. Benny ain't got nothin' to do with the family business, and Paulie beat him up!"

"Yeah, well," she looked over at Paulie, whose lip was busted and nose looked like it had been broken again. "Sure looks like you got retribution!" she said, reaching for her handcuffs, and placing them securely on Vinny's wrists. "You and your friends are coming with me."

"Come on, officer," Vinny protested once again, "Paulie started …"

Erik looked up in horror, muttering softly. "_What_ did you say?"

"I said," she repeated herself, "That you are all going to be taking a little trip with me to the police station."

Approaching Erik, she sized him up carefully, asking, "What's with the mask, pretty boy? Trying to conceal your identity?" Erik looked over at Nadir and Chris, with panic in his eyes. He felt his heart begin to race, and his breath coming in accelerated huffs. "What do _you_ have to hide?" Reaching for a spare set of cuffs, she shackled Erik's wrists together.

"Excuse me, officer," Nadir began, seeing the cold sweat that was breaking our all over his friend's face. "But there's been a mistake."

"You can tell me your sob story down at the station," she said, signaling for another officer to come and bring extra cuffs for Chris, Nadir, and Paulie. "Let's go, gentlemen. You're going to spending some time with New York's Finest tonight!"

* * *

Erik sat on the hard bench, hands folded in front of him, head down, eyes closed in an attempt to quell the sudden urge to run. Once again, he was in a cage, with cold metal bars separating him from the rest of the world. He had been in a cage before—when the gypsies had held him captive. Beaten and tortured and forced to perform, he had hated it. Aside from the sheer physical pain, it was so demeaning, degrading and humiliating. He remembered thinking, back then, that there could be nothing worse than the fate of being held a prisoner, forced to exist in squalor and darkness. But now, as he stared at the concrete floors, and the too bright light cast by the single naked bulb hanging in the center of the ceiling, he realized that this time things were different.

They were far worse.

Firstly, he was not alone in his cell. No, he was accompanied by Vinny—who had not stopped cursing in Italian, and loudly demanding to see his lawyer; Chris—who sat in the corner despondently, muttering about how he was going to lose his job; and the Persian—who insisted upon pacing back and forth, back and forth, the length of the cell, over and over. Having the three of them locked up with him was maddening, suffocating, and only served to remind him of the other way this incarceration was different from the first.

When he was last held against his will, there was no one to miss him. He could have died in that cage, and no one would have cared, save the gypsies who would be out of their main moneymaker. But this time, he had someone to live for. And having him miss their wedding because he was imprisoned unjustly was going to break her heart.

Nadir finally stopped pacing near the bars of the cage when he saw the officer who had arrested them approach their cell with a young man who was similarly attired.  
"Mr. Adolfo," she said, to Vinny, "Your lawyer is here and would like to speak with you." The second officer unlocked the door and allowed Vinny to exit. "About damned time!" He muttered, under his breath, as he left the cell and began to follow the officer down the hall. "Been in there for hours!"

The arresting officer turned to go, but Nadir called out and stopped her. "Officer!" he exclaimed, and she stopped and faced him once more. "I'm sorry, I do not know your name," he smiled, hoping that he was laying on the charm.

"It's Passley," she said in a tone that was at once unimpressed, but willing to hear what this hapless prisoner had to say. "Officer Sharon Passley."

"Well, Officer Passley—may I call you Sharon?" Nadir began, trying to be as friendly as possible.

"No." She said in a no nonsense tone of voice, folding her arms across her chest.

"Alright, then," he continued, undaunted. "I want to assure you, Officer Passley, that my friends and I had nothing to do with the fight. We were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You were with Vinny Adolfo. That is always the wrong place to be."

"Yes, but we were merely with him for a bachelor party." Nadir gestured over at Chris. "When Mr. Adolfo's younger brother was brought in severely beaten, the good doctor over here took it upon himself to tend to the young man's wounds. We were behind the table the whole time, cleaning the cuts on the younger Mr. Adolfo's face. And my friend Erik," he gestured to the bench where Erik sat, still staring at the floor. "—Despondent, broken, exhausted. In a few short hours, he is set to marry the love of his life. Through no desire of their own, they had been separated for the better part of the last year. She just gave birth to his baby. And in the morning—early in the morning—they are supposed to wed. But he is here, sitting in this cell, instead of getting some much needed rest for his wedding day, simply because he is a victim of circumstance. He did nothing to provoke the violence. He was helping us tend to Mr. Adolfo's brother. Check our hands, Officer Passley," Nadir suddenly held the backs of his hands up for her to examine. "If we had been fighting, would there not be cuts and bruises on our knuckles? Look, our hands are clean."

Officer Passley took a close look at Nadir's hands, and sure enough they were devoid of any bruises or abrasions she would have expected to see if he were involved in any way in a barroom brawl. His eyes were so earnest, and his friends truly did look despondent and heartbroken—even the one with the hidden face, whose mask, they had discovered upon reaching the station, had been in place to conceal a horrible disfigurement. It had not been an evasive tactic at all. Besides, she had been on Adolfo's trail for a while now, and these three had never shown up on her radar before.

Assessing the three poor fools in the cell one more time, Officer Passley felt a strong pull in her gut that they were not involved in any wrong doing—and, considering that they were not in any way injured—there was no real evidence that they were part of the fight. They truly did appear to be victims of circumstance—in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Using her key, she slid open the cell door one more time. Erik looked up to see her standing in the open doorway, and he heard her say, "Listen. For some ridiculous reason, I believe your story, Mr. . ."

"Khan!" Nadir quickly supplied.

"Well, Mr. Khan, I believe your story, so you three are free to go. But let me caution you against making friends with people like Vinny Adolfo. He is _not_ a good man."

Erik and Chris stared at Nadir, absolutely shocked that the man had managed to talk their way out of jail. They stood from their sitting positions and approached the door of the cell. The three men exited and made their way to the desk. When they were finished filling out the paperwork that declared them free men, they quickly hurried toward the exit. Before they were out of the building, though, Erik turned to his arresting officer, who was standing in the corner of the room, and pinned her with his two-tone gaze. Bowing low before her, he stated, "I thank you, Officer Passley, from the bottom of my heart—for you have set me free to marry my beloved. I shall remember your kindness always." And with a crooked half smile, he took his leave.

**So, Erik and the boys DID spend the nigh in jail after all! But thanks to Nadir's reasoning skills, and a very understanding officer, they are free! And it is time to get Erik hitched! :) **

**Please reviews and let me know what you think of Erik's partying skills! :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Are those bells I hear ringing? And Angels singing? It must be time for Erik and Jenna's wedding! **

CH 19

Erik had been a veritable flurry of activity since arriving back at the Daroga's apartment in the wee hours of the morning. While Chris and Nadir had hoped for a few brief moments of rest, Erik immediately demanded that they begin to shower and get ready for the day. "You smell like a brothel, Daroga," Erik had declared, turning up his nose distastefully.

"Well _you_ smell like death and decay! It's in the book!" Nadir had countered, referring to the novel by Gaston Leroux that he'd forced himself to read, so he could begin to understand the fascination this modern generation seemed to have with Erik's story. Leroux got a lot of things wrong, but he certainly captured the ghost's temper perfectly. When Erik fixed the Persian with a murderous glare, Nadir added, with a tight smile, "but it's nothing that a little mouthwash won't fix… or…some… deodorant," and he turned and opened the bathroom door.

The three men took turns showering and shaving, and donning their wedding attire, making certain that they looked their best for such an auspicious occasion. Once Erik had buttoned his dove grey vest and shrugged on his black morning coat, he straightened his black and silver cravat, before tying on his mask. Making certain there were no wrinkles in his pinstripe trousers, he lifted his black top hat from the table and declared that it was time to start the short walk to Battery Park.

"Would you please _hurry_, Daroga!" Erik growled as he increased his strides in the direction of the park. "We don't have all day!"

"Well then you better slow down, Erik," Nadir responded, having to double his pace to keep up with the much taller man. "Or we are going to have to make a stop at the emergency room to revive me."

"Are you ok, Nadir," Chris asked, turning toward him and showing concern.

"Oh, he's fine," Erik assured the young doctor, never slowing down. "The Daroga is simply overly dramatic."

"Really?" Nadir retorted. "The great Phantom of the Opera is calling _me_ dramatic!"

Shaking his head, Chris muttered, "I am never going to get used to this."

"Chop chop, gentlemen," Erik sped up as they neared their destination. "We don't want to be late. It would not do for the groom to keep his bride waiting."

"We will not be late for your wedding, Erik," Nadir huffed, "Have I ever steered you wrong?"

Erik actually stopped in his tracks for a moment and turned slowly, fixing Nadir with an icy glare. "What would you call last night?"

"An adventure," he said smiling, appreciating the brief moment to catch his breath.

Looking at Nadir in disgust, Erik simply shook his head before continuing on his way.

"Break over, I guess," Nadir quipped to Chris, who smiled at him, and patted him on the back.

"Let's get that man married, so we can all have a little peace," Chris remarked, as he kept pace with Nadir.

"Ah, Chris, you've gotten to know him so well."

When they reached their destination, two familiar faces were waiting for them on a park bench—one badly bruised and battered. "Sheesh, Erik, I thought you'd be a little more eager to get here, considering how much you were belly-aching last night!" Came the brash voice of Vinny Adolfo, as the large man rose to pull Erik into a warm half hug. "I figured you'd be campin' out or somethin'."

"Vincent," Erik said, resisting the urge to throw the man to the ground and strangle him for daring to invade his personal space like that. Men had died for less, but this was his wedding day and he would curtail any urge to kill for the sake of Jenna…even allowing Nadir to skate by with his usual annoyances unbuttered. "I thought you'd still be in jail."

Vinny smirked, "What—for that bar fight? Nah!" he waved his hand, to dismiss Erik's worries. "My lawyers have gotten me off for _much_ worse than that!" Leaning in, a little conspiratorially, he handed Erik another business card, "Listen, if you ever need … representation … just call these guys and tell them Vinny sent ya. Best in the business."

Erik looked at the card in his hand, then back over at Vinny, and tucked it into his trousers pocket. "I will keep that in mind" he said, politely thanking Vinny for his concern. "—in case the need for representation should ever … arise." When Nadir snickered, Erik glared at him, and muttered under his breath, "Keep it up, Daroga, and it could happen sooner than you think."

Chris approached Benny, who was still sitting on the bench. "And how are you feeling, Benny?"

"I'm still sore," he admitted, a bit sheepishly. "And my lip hurts like hell," he gestured to where his lip was cut and swollen. "But I'm doing ok. I wanted to see Batman over there get hitched."

With a smile, Chris informed him, "One of these days, Benny, you're going to have to explain to me why you and your brother call Erik Batman."

"Over drinks one night!" Benny promised.

"As long as it's a _different_ bar!" came Chris's stipulation.

At that moment, they caught sight of a white limousine pulling up in front of them, and Chris and Benny stood as Erik hurried to take his place on the platform in front of the railing.

"Showtime!" Chris muttered to Nadir, turning toward the car to try and catch a glimpse of his Meg.

"Are you ready, Erik?" Nadir asked his friend smiling.

"Of course, I am ready, Daroga," Erik responded, eyes focused resolutely on the long white vehicle. "I have been waiting for her all my life."

And it was true. All of his life's sorrows—the lonely days spent locked away in the attic; the solitary nights in the gypsy camp; the hazy mornings in Persia and the endless darkness of the lair—all of it, had been preparing him for this moment, when that crazed, disheveled girl, who had arrived on his lakeshore almost a year ago would now become his wife.

Life was strange. It had brought him so much sorrow—so much suffering and pain—and yet it had also rewarded him with an inestimable treasure. For somehow, through the distance of ages, fate had linked his soul with that of this beautiful woman, and then had kindly—wondrously—bent the rules so that he could be with her. Erik had never been a religious man, having chosen long ago not to believe in a God who would create him solely as a target for others' cruelty. And yet, at this moment, as light danced brightly on the early morning ripples of the Hudson, and the mid October breeze rustled gently through the autumn leaves, he knew he had been blessed.

The minister, who had arrived a few minutes earlier took his place next to Erik, and flashed him a gentle smile. The first to leave the car was Antoinette, cradling baby Matthew closely in her arms. She caught Nadir's gaze immediately, and gave him a sweet smile that seemed to say, "I missed you." For all of his brashness from the night before, Nadir's eyes lit up as he gave her a single nod, and it was obvious that he could not wait to hold his wife in his arms. Next to exit the limousine was Meg, her blond curls cascading down her back. She was serving as the first attendant to the bride—or maid of honor, as Jenna referred to her—and she was wearing a long red dress with a black sash at the waist. Erik could hear the sharp intake of breath when Chris saw her, and from the twinkle in the doctor's eyes, Erik thought, just for a moment, that there might be another wedding in store for their little family group sometime soon.

Finally, after a moment that was very brief, but to Erik felt like a lifetime, his bride emerged from the car.

She was a vision of loveliness, such as Erik had never seen. The long white gown she wore was soft and flowy, embellished with bits of flowery lace and a few well-placed crystals to make it sparkle. Her hair was pulled away from her face with a couple of soft, romantic, coppery curls floating down on either side, a veil of white trailing behind her from a small tiara on her head. In her hands, she held a bouquet of dark red roses, tied together with a ribbon of black—a nod toward her beloved groom. And around her neck hung the cameo that Erik had given her—the rose she would never again leave behind—a symbol of their love that would be always precious, forever new, never fading or withering as the years passed by.

Erik had to remind himself to breathe, as she walked toward him, a look of pure joy glowing on her face. When she finally reached the little platform where he stood, she handed her bouquet to Meg, and gazed deeply into his eyes, to see her joy and anticipation reflected in his. At that moment, time stopped for Erik, and the rest of the world faded away. There was only Jenna—there was only this moment—the moment when she said yes.

The preacher began to recite the words that had bound together so many couples before them. Promises were made, vows were spoken, and both bride and groom shed joyful tears, mingling when they sealed their bond with a kiss. The minister declared them husband and wife, as they placed shining bands of gold-the physical symbols of the one heart and one soul they had become-on each others' fingers. They stood stalwart to face the world together-and neither would ever truly be lonely again.

After the ceremony, when they had thanked the minister, and signed the marriage certificate, Nadir and Chris walked with Antoinette, Meg and Matthew back to the limousine, to give Erik and Jenna a moment alone. Arms around each other, they stared at the waves and…remembered.

"These very same waters brought you to me, my dear Jenna," Erik whispered, as they gazed out at the mighty river before them.

"That's right," she whispered back, with a giggle. "And you thought I was a mental patient."

Erik smiled himself, as a crooked smile took over his face. "You must admit, my dear Madame D'Angiel, that I had reasons."

Jenna's heart thrilled to hear her married name spoke so elegantly by her husband. "Madame D'Angiel," she repeated in an awed tone of voice.

"Yes," he answered, joyfully, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. "That is your name—now and forever. And I can never again call you Mademoiselle," he teased, aware of how much she had hated when he used that moniker.

"One of the little thought of, fringe benefits of marriage," she teased back.

"Indeed," he agreed, with another gentle kiss. "But there are others," he whispered huskily in her ear, "that I am eager to discover."

"Mmmmmm," she purred right back at him. "Then I would suggest, dear husband, that we go and have our reception, so that we can move on to our wedding night." She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his lips once more.

In that moment, Erik was overwhelmed by a flood of emotion. "Jenna," he solemnly swore, as he took her hand in his. "I promise you, I will do my best to be a good husband. I will love you and cherish you and protect you for the rest of my days. I know that you know my life's story, but I still don't think you have any idea what a miracle you are to me. I am going to spend the rest of my life, showing you how grateful I am to have you in it."

"Erik," Jenna responded, loving tears welling in her eyes. "I want to spend the rest of _my_ days being a good wife to you. I will always accept you, and draw you to me with open arms. I will be your support and your partner in all things, and most of all, I want to love you with every breath in my body, and every beat of my heart. You say I am your miracle… well you are my prince. And I want to spend the rest of my life loving you with my whole heart."

"Sounds like an excellent goal to me," Erik murmured, as he joined her lips one more time with hers. After a few moments, a car horn blared, and Erik and Jenna separated. Of course it was Nadir who had honked the limousine horn, in an effort to get him to hurry, but nothing could deflate the happiness and peace that Erik felt today. Linking her arm in his, Erik gazed once more at Jenna and asked, "Are you ready to greet our guests, Madame D'Angiel?"

Smiling up at him, she answered, "I am ready for anything with you, Monsieur D'Angiel," and arm in arm, they made their way toward the limousine.

They all rode in the limousine together. Since there were so few of them, they had decided to go to a local eatery for a delicious brunch, heading back to Jenna and Erik's apartment afterward, for cake. When they got there, of course, Matthew had to be fed, so Jenna took him and retired to the bedroom, Antoinette joining her, to help her maneuver her dress. Erik was left to entertain their guests, so he and Nadir listened as Vinny told them tales of other exploits his lawyers had had to get him "off" for. Chris took Meg to the far side of the living room, turning on the radio softly, and swaying with her gently to the music.

"What's a wedding without music?" Chris asked her with a smile, as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Dull and boring?" Meg answered, moving comfortably into his embrace, snaking her arms up around his neck.

"Never when you're around," he replied, earning him the sweet blush he so enjoyed seeing on her cheeks. "I missed you last night," he told her, as they moved together to the music.

"Oh, I missed you too, Chris," she assured him. It had been very strange to fall asleep without hearing Chris tap gently on her window. Since she and her family had moved out of the hotel, and into their little two-bedroom apartment, Chris had taken to climbing the fire escape outside her bedroom window nightly, just to say goodnight. Sometimes she would crawl outside with him and sit for a while, just staring up at the stars, her head resting on his shoulder, his hand holding hers. Last night, though it had been fun spending the evening with Jenna, she had yearned for Chris's smile, the twinkle in his eyes, his sweet and gentle kiss goodnight. It felt so _good_ to be back in his arms.

Snuggling in a little closer to him, she teased, "But I will admit, I did spend the evening with quite the handsome young man."

"Hmmmm. . ." he teased, "So, short dark haired men who drool—_that's_ your type?"

"No," she giggled, "I've always preferred a tall blonde gentleman, with blue eyes that sparkle when he smiles."

"Well," Chris remarked, giving her just the smile she was hoping for, as he leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on her lips. "How could any gentleman's eyes not sparkle when they're looking at you?"

When they pulled back from their kiss, Meg gazed up at Chris affectionately, adoring the glow she saw in his gaze. So much had changed between them, since the night Matthew was born, but still, she felt the need to check in with him about how he was doing on this day of all days. "So how are you feeling, Chris?" she asked him, as they continued their dance. "About the wedding?"

"Well, I think it was a very touching ceremony," he answered. "And Jenna made a beautiful bride."

"She did," Meg agreed, feeling just a bit jealous of the radiance the red haired beauty had displayed that day.

"But Meg," Chris continued, gazing deeply in her eyes, as he said his next words with all sincerity. "You are the woman who took my breath away, and who made my heart beat faster. And you are the reason that I couldn't wait for them to say 'I do,' since I knew that once they did, I would be able to hold you in my arms."

"Oh Chris," she said breathlessly, feeling tears spring to her eyes at his words.

"As I stood there and watched Erik and Jenna take their vows," he continued, "I couldn't take my eyes off of _you_, standing there in this gorgeous red dress, your hair shining gold in the sunlight. I realized at that moment, Meg, one day…I want that to be _us_." Meg gasped, as he cupped her face in his hands. "We've got a long way to go, darling, but I want you to know that …" his eyes softened as he smiled at her. "I love you, Meg."

The tears were streaming down her face now as she reached up and tangled a hand in his hair, "I love you too, Chris. I love you too," and pulling his face toward hers, their lips joined in a loving, lingering kiss.

Nadir had taken notice of the young lovers' display of affection, and was walking over to remind them of decorum, when he saw them pull apart. Seeing the tears in Jenna's eyes, he turned to Chris and asked, "Are you making my step daughter cry?"

"Only in the best of ways, Nadir," she gushed, leaning her head on Chris's shoulder, as he smiled down at her, adoringly. Erik came up from behind Nadir and pulled him aside. "They're next," he told him matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean, they're next?" Nadir asked, still staring over at Meg and Chris, who had resumed their dance. "Next for what?"

"They will be next to wed, Daroga," Erik informed him, as if it was the most obvious fact in the world.

"No," Nadir dismissed Erik's words with a wave of his hand. "They hardly even …" his voice trailed off, as he glanced over at the young couple again. They were smiling and rubbing noses, and Chris was just about to lean in for another tender kiss. "Do you really think so?"

"It is obvious he is in love with her," Erik said smiling. "And she seems quite enamored of him too. You could do worse than having a doctor in your family!" He patted Nadir on the back. "Best take good care of your wedding suit, Daroga. My guess is that you will be needing it within the year."

When Jenna and Antoinette emerged, with a happy and well-fed baby Matthew, the party kicked into full swing. Drinks were poured, the music was turned up, and laughter and good cheer were shared by all. After the cake was cut in the early evening, the guests decided it was time to allow the newlyweds to start their honeymoon.

Meg and Chris took their leave together, preferring to enjoy a slow evening stroll back to the apartment. Before they left, however, Jenna pulled Meg aside and handed her a red rose.

"What's this, Jenna?" Meg asked, perplexed. "I thought the bride was supposed to be the one with flowers."

"When I was living in the opera house, I left one of Erik's roses for Christine, and it seemed to bring her luck. Shortly after, as you have told me, she married her true love. I have seen the way you look at Chris, Meg. I saw the way he could barely stand to be away from you for a moment tonight. I am hoping that a rose from my bridal bouquet might bring _you_ luck too."

Meg blushed as she admitted to her new friend, "I love him Jenna."

"I can tell," Jenna told her as they both laughed. "He's a _good_ man, Meg. And I know he loves you too."

The two women embraced, and then, carrying her rose, Meg made her way toward Chris. Putting his own suit jacket across her shoulders, and holding her close against the autumn chill, Chris and Meg said their goodbyes and headed out the door.

"Six months," Erik leaned over and muttered to Nadir. "Maybe a year. But mark my words, they are next."

Vinny and Benny were the next to go, when a black Lincoln Town Car arrived to pick them up, and as Jenna was giving Matthew another feeding, and Erik had slipped out of the room for a minute, Antoinette informed Nadir that they would be taking the baby for the weekend.

"We will?" Nadir asked.

"Well, yes," Antoinette repeated herself. "Erik and Jenna deserve at least a couple of days to focus only on one another, don't you think?"

Nadir was reminded how their own honeymoon was close to non-existent, thanks to the turmoil that had followed immediately after. Since their move into the new apartment, life had seemed so much less stressful. Nadir attributed it to Erik having moved in with Jenna to help raise Matthew, but he could also admit that sharing a bedroom _privately_ with his wife made life much more enjoyable as well. He greatly enjoyed not having to sneak around to find couple time with his own new bride.

"Yes," Nadir nodded, finally answering out loud. "I suppose they do deserve a little time alone together."

"Besides," Antoinette added coyly. "It'll be good practice."

"Mmm. Practice," Nadir nodded, and then stopped in his tracks. "Wait a minute, Antoinette. Practice? For what?"

"Oh," she said with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile. "For another little baby that will be joining us in about 8 months."

Nadir's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to speak, closing it again with a harsh exhalation of breath before the enormity of what she had just said hit him like a brick. "Antoinette," he asked her in a hushed tone, taking her hands in his. "Are you saying that you're … that _we_…"

With a good natured chuckle, she nodded, "Yes, Nadir. At first, I didn't think it was possible. At our age, and with all that has happened, I just thought the stress was taking its toll on my body. But Meg suggested I talk with Chris, and he found me a nice, sweet doctor who assured me that, apparently, many women have babies later in life these days. She said it was quite natural and safe. So, _yes_, my love—we're going to have a baby."

Nadir placed his palm on the flat of Antoinette's stomach for a moment before lifting her in his arms and swirling her around the room. "Oh, my dear sweet love," he murmured in her ear. "You have made me so happy."

"You've made me happy too, my dear," she replied, loving the feeling of her husband's joyful arms around her. "Happier than I ever thought I would be again."

With Erik was carrying a bag of baby things and Matthew cradled in his mother's arms, Erik and Jenna emerged from the bedroom. They stopped short at the sight of Nadir and Antoinette's jubilant embrace.  
"You told him!" Jenna declared to Antoinette.

"Told him what?" Erik asked her.

"Yes I did," Antoinette confirmed.

"Oh, I'm so happy for you both!" Jenna gushed, handing Matthew over to Erik, so she could give them each a warm hug.

"What's going on, Daroga?" Erik asked in confusion.

"Looks like Matthew's going to have a little buddy in about 8 months."

Erik's eyes lit up with joy when the meaning behind Nadir's words dawned on him. "Congratulations, Daroga!" Erik exclaimed, actually pulling Nadir in for a hug, Matthew smushed between them. "It has truly been a day of new beginnings for both of us!"

"Yes, my friend!" Nadir agreed, happily, taking Matthew out of Erik's arms, and lifting the child in the air. "Blessed new beginnings."

**Awww! They're married! They're married! And Meg and Chris are on their way to it, from the looks of things. And Annie and Nadir-well, they put their precious alone time to good use, didn't they? ;) Erik seems so genuinely happy for all of his friends-even Vinny, who managed to make it out of jail in time to make it to the wedding. Or maybe he's just happy that he and Jenna are finally going to be alone! Tomorrow, we will enjoy their wedding night! ;) And, I promise you, so will they! ;)**


	21. Chapter 21

**Well, folks, the reception's over and the guests have gone home, and Erik and Jenna are FINALLY alone. Time for them to enjoy a wonderful wedding night. **

******This chapter is rated M******

CH 19

The apartment was finally quiet as they closed the door behind Antoinette, Matthew, and Nadir. It was going to be difficult not to have Matthew home for the weekend, but they knew he was in good hands—and Jenna and Erik were finally, after so much time, truly and completely alone.

Erik untied the mask, and placed it on the entryway table, as was his custom when they were at home. Then, turning toward Jenna, Erik placed his hands on her shoulders and asked her softly, "Are you hungry, dear wife?"

"No, Erik," she answered, her stomach too full of fluttering butterflies at that moment to care much for food, "I'm fine."

"Then may I trouble my beautiful bride for a dance?" he asked her, a tender smile forming on his lips.

Jenna felt her heart thrill, remembering the last dance they had shared. "Of course, Erik," she answered. "I would love to dance with my husband."

Without another word, Erik led Jenna into the living room, where the stereo was still playing softly. Placing one arm on her waist, he sighed when she wrapped an arm around his neck. Taking her other hand in his, and placing it above his heart, he began to slowly sway along to the music.

Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, and Erik smirked when he remembered the clumsy fashion in which their first dance had begun. "I do believe, Madame, that marriage has improved your dancing skills," he told her, in hushed tones.

"Is that so, Monsieur?" she answered back.

"Indeed, dear wife," he reiterated, in a husky voice. "I feel no more awkwardness—no more clumsiness in the way you move," he told her, pulling her hips more tightly against him.

"Perhaps, that is because," she answered, her voice quiet, "My husband is finally ready to take the lead."

"Mmmm. . ." he hummed, bending his head low to drink in the scent of her throat, placing a gentle kiss on her collarbone. "Indeed he is. In fact, he has been dreaming of little else, but leading you in this dance."

"I see," she responded, breathless now, from his seductive tones, and the way his hips were swaying in time with hers. "Well wherever he leads," she gave a little gasp, as the hand Erik had been resting on her hip sensually traced up the curves of her body, on his way to her hair. "His bride shall surely follow."

Jenna closed her eyes, as she felt him remove the pins—one by one—that held her hair up away from her face. When her curls finally fell wildly at her shoulders, Erik tangled his fingers in them, and pulled her face tightly against his for a kiss. "He is certainly glad to hear that," he rumbled, just before crushing his lips to hers.

Erik and Jenna reveled in the passion they found in that kiss, their mouths extending their dance, their tongues intertwining. Soft sighs of pleasure escaped them both, as their lips continued their heady entanglement. When they absolutely had to pull back, so that they could breathe, Erik looked Jenna deep in the eyes, before lifting her up in his arms, and stating, in no uncertain terms, "It is time I take my wife to bed."

He carried her tenderly over the threshold of the bedroom they had shared so many times in the past month. Never before—however—had they shared it as man and wife, and that knowledge made everything wonderful and new. Erik set her on her feet at the foot of the bed, taking her face in his hands again and kissing her passionately once more. Jenna let her hands roam freely over Erik's body, unfastening buttons, pushing the coat and vest off of his shoulders. When he was finally divested of his shirt, Jenna broke free of the kiss so that she could once again let her lips journey the path of sorrow and cruelty that crisscrossed Erik's chest. His head fell back in pleasure as her healing lips rejuvenated his once tortured flesh, until his entire body felt as if it would sing out in ecstasy.

Taking her hands, and gently pulling her to her feet, Erik once again captured her mouth with his. His fingers wandered down her back, finding the zipper that held her dress in place. With a gentle tug, he loosened her confines. Softly nudging the straps from her shoulders with his warm hands, the gown whooshed to the floor. Standing back a bit to admire his wife, as she stood before him in only her lacy undergarments, and the cameo that still hung around her neck, he purred, "I do love twenty first century fashions, my Jenna." Remembering his own clumsiness that first night, when it came to removing her dress, he added, "They are so much more convenient."

Jenna giggled, pulling his mouth to hers once more. As her hands explored his taut, sinewy back, Erik began to unclasp her bra, her pliant lips working wonders to ease his frustrations with the tiny hooks and eyes. When he finally had it undone, he allowed the offending undergarment to fall to the floor, and his eyes feasted on the treasure once more laid bare before him.

"My Jenna," he rasped, his throat, suddenly dry. "I have dreamed about the flawlessness of your breasts, but my memory could never hope to compete with the reality of your perfection." His hands trembling, he reached out and caressed each creamy mound before him, brushing his thumbs over their rosy tips, eliciting a sharp gasp of ecstasy from her lips. "Erik," she moaned, as he made her body hum with desire, taking one of her tight buds in his mouth, circling it with his tongue, and nipping it gently between his teeth. Encouraged by her enraptured response, Erik continued to adore her other breast with his mouth, as his hands trailed lower to hook the waistband of her lacy underwear. With a gentle downward pull, the delicate garment fell to the floor. Cupping the gentle curve of her rear end, he kneaded her supple flesh, pulling her tightly against him, crushing her bare breasts against his chest. "You are remarkable, my beautiful bride," he hummed low, as he traced the outline of her collarbone with his tongue.

"And you, my dear husband," she sighed, feeling slightly weak from his ministrations. "Are far too overdressed." She fumbled with the button at his waist, cursing her bumbling, graceless fingers for making her stumble in her desire. But finally, when his trousers were unfastened, and falling to the floor along with his own underclothes, Jenna smiled when she saw his manhood straining in her direction—obviously aching with the desire for them to become one. She reached forward and took him into her hand, loving how he felt at once firm and hot to the touch, feeling him grow even larger and harder as she held him in her grasp. When she began to gently stroke him, a raw cry built up in Erik's chest and exploded from his lips.

"Oh, my Jenna," he spoke through clenched teeth, "Your touch is amazing." And he caught her mouth with his and she rhythmically stroked him up and down, bringing him greater and greater delight with each touch.

He nudged her closer to the bed, and they fell upon it, a tangle of lips and limbs. When his fingers reached low, and gently stroked that most sensitive nub between her legs, she cried out in hunger for more of his delectable touch. "I need you Erik," she panted, as the pleasure began to build within her core.

Erik rolled them so that she was on her back, his legs positioned between hers. Her arms wrapped around his back lovingly, as he lay his body down gently on top of her. The skin-to-skin contact alone was enough to evoke a gratified moan, but when his hardened length found her soft wet opening, he knew he was on the threshold to paradise. Gazing lovingly at her face, smiling sensually as he noticed the pink flush that was creeping over her features, Erik whispered to her, breathlessly "Jenna, I love you," as he pushed himself inside her welcoming folds.

Jenna cried out at his delicious intrusion, as Erik lay there still for a moment, loving the sweet sensation of her body stretching to accommodate him. "I love you too, Erik," she moaned, as she lifted her hips to meet his, taking him even deeper into her body. Erik slowly began to rock above her, groans and gasps of pleasure spilling from his lips, as he reacquainted himself with the blessed heat of her body. His arms cradled her tightly against him, as his lips peppered hot kisses all over her face and neck. "Jenna, my Jenna," he groaned over and over again, as the waves of ecstasy broke over him, and he felt himself pushing ever onward toward his peak.

Jenna writhed eagerly beneath him, wrapping her legs around his waist, urging him deeper, farther into her core. Her own pleasure built within her, like a golden thread coiling, twisting, tangling itself tightly around her insides. Finally, the thread snapped, and a thousand tendrils of flame spiraled out to her extremities, causing her toes to curl and her fingernails to trail hot ribbons of red down his back. She lustily moaned his name as she thrashed against him, her body convulsing around him in wild, erratic squeezes and pulls that brought him close to the edge of his own rapture. With a few more deep, urgent thrusts, Erik felt his own orgasm take him. Letting loose with an animalistic growl, white lights flashed behind Erik's eyes, as he filled her with his seed, pumping into her over and over until he had nothing left to give.

Spent completely, and still within her, he collapsed upon her body. Lovingly, she stroked his hair, soothing the storm that had just raged inside him, cooling the embers that sizzled and licked at his soul. When the stars stopped swirling behind his eyes, Erik lifted his head slightly, touching his forehead to hers, and placing a gentle kiss upon her now swollen lips. "That was everything, Jenna," he heaved out, in short gasps, his breath still coming too harshly to allow for normal conversation. "That I had ever dreamed—and so much more." He reached out to brush a damp strand of hair away from her face and whispered, "I simply cannot express how much I love you."

"I know how much you love me, Erik," Jenna assured him, tilting her head up to bestow him with a little kiss, "Because that is how much I love you. Words will never capture it, my love. But," she raised an eyebrow flirtatiously, "we can continue to try to find other… methods … to express the _depths _of our passion."

She lifted her hips against him seductively and he could already feel a new stirring in his loins. "Madame wife," he teased, using his fingers to pinch an already hardening nipple, "You are quite the little vixen."

"Indeed," she agreed, arching a bit against his teasing hands.

"One might even call you insatiable," Erik continued, kissing her hotly in the crook of her neck.

"Guilty as charged," she admitted, tangling her fingers in his hair, to hold his mouth against her flesh.

"And I am an extremely willing accomplice," he murmured, trailing his finger once more to that point of pleasure between her legs, as he felt himself hardening again inside her.

"They really ought to lock us up together," Jenna sighed, trailing her hands down his back to squeeze his firm buttock, feeling her pleasure slowly begin to build once again.

"And throw away the key," Erik added, amused vaguely at the unknowing references Jenna was making to the previous night. Amused, that was, until Jenna's hips pushed forward against him, pulling him deeper inside her and rendering him once again incapable of thought.

They made love again and again, filling the night with whimpered moans and fevered passion. When they both finally drifted off to sleep, barely able to move, they were cradled tightly in each other's arms—one heart, one soul, for their first night of forever.

**Well. They are certainly very, VERY married now, LOL. Hope you all enjoyed their wedding night. I think THEY certainly did. **  
**Now, tomorrow is the final chapter in this little AU-BUT that does not mean it is the end. As I said at the beginning, I like to think of this story as open ended, so I plan on adding little vignettes here and there, when I think of them, or when I need a break from my new writing project-which I will tell you about tomorrow. If you happen to have any ideas for scenes you'd like to see between Erik and Jenna, let me know. I have a couple in mind, but I'm always open for more.**

**Until tomorrow!**


	22. Chapter 22

**THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for all your wonderful reviews! This has been so much fun to write and to post. You all have made this posting feel like a party with your wonderful reviews, and I appreciate all of you so much! **

**Before we begin this temporary last chapter, I want to address a question from a guest review I received. **

_**Guest wrote: so I neeeeed to know. this is the REAL ending of the secret door CORRECT? remember, I have a PUNJAB lasso ready if you do not say the right thing. like this is the preferred ending for u right? RIGHT?**_

_Ha ha. OK, don't punjab me! ha ha. I don't really know HOW to answer that. As an author, I thought the original ending was perfect. It was touching, it was uplifting, it tore at the heart, but offered a happy ending. For me, the question when I began TSD was How could Erik even KNOW how to love-he never experienced it in his life. To me, that was why he held Christine on such a high pedestal, and thought that by making himself into a supernatural being, he could win her affections. He didn't know that real love meant coming together as a woman and a man, and just being who you ARE. So, in TSD, I set out to have Erik find someone who could teach him that, and give him a chance to REALLY win Christine. But then I fell in LOVE with Jenna and with the chemistry that Erik and Jenna had, and I began to want them together too. (Suddenly, Erik went from having NO girls to have TWO that I really liked with him, LOL. Casanova!) I might have changed my story too, if I hadn't already grown to like my nameless doctor too. So, with The Secret Door, I gave you the ending it was supposed to have-the ending that I think makes literary sense and shows character growth-the ending my English teachers wold have approved of. BUT, as a Phangirl, yes, this is the ending I dreamed of. And it's a lot more fun! LOL. OK, am I safe from the punjab? LOL_

**WELL, here it is. The last chapter in this little AU. Thank you so much, once again, to my Pre-readers and Betas, FantomPhan33 and Yetursoul Obeys, for the non stop support when I was in the writing stage! Like I said yesterday, this is NOT the end-which should be very obvious when you get to the end of this chapter! So, lets see what our favorite characters are up to now! And please read the author's note at the end of this chapter for some important info! :)**

CH 21

Chris sat in the waiting room, stroking Meg's hand, leaning in close to whisper soothing words into his fiancé's ear. It had been hours since her mother had been wheeled into the delivery room, with Nadir by her side, and Meg didn't know what to think. Though the situation had been hectic when Jenna had given birth to Matthew, things seemed to progress fairly quickly. But with her mother, the whole process was taking so long, and, of course, there was the fact that her mother was so much older. Meg just wouldn't be able bear it if something were to go wrong. She needed her mother, now more than ever, since she would be a wife herself in just a few short months. She was counting on her mother to be there when Meg walked down the aisle.

Jenna sat on a nearby chair, bouncing Matthew on her knee. She knew it was perfectly normal for childbirth to take a very long time. Considering that Antoinette was being tended to by the same doctor who saw Jenna through her own pregnancy, she was certain both mother and baby would be fine. Her confidence in the situation, however, didn't do much to calm Meg's nerves, or to stop Erik from pacing up and down the waiting room floor, raking his fingers roughly through his hair, as he was doing now.

His demeanor reminded her of nights back at the opera house, when Erik would be railing on about some minor catastrophe or another. His eyes would flash, his nostril would flare, and waves of vitriol would tumble from his mouth, as caustic as acid, yet—when spoken in his rich and velvety tones—as smooth as honey. You could take the man out of the opera house, apparently, but you couldn't take the Phantom out of the man. Not that Jenna would ever want to. That intensity, that ferocity, and, yes, that temper were all parts of the man she fell in love with—the man she loved more and more with each passing day. She would not change even one hair on his head—that was, she thought, as she saw him clutch his tresses brusquely again—if he had any left after this ordeal.

It was all just so _maddening_, Erik thought, as he began anew his circuit around the waiting room. When Jenna had given birth to Matthew, he had hardly had time to be nervous. Still, he had _been_ there, an active part of the delivery. He'd held her hand, and soothed her discomfort, and in the end, he could always see that she was healthy. Antoinette had been in labor for so long now, and they had heard nothing encouraging from the doctors. Jenna and Chris had promised them that birthing a baby took time—that Jenna's relatively quick delivery of Matthew had been somewhat out of the ordinary. And of course he knew, from his own studies, that they were exactly right. But if Erik were honest with himself, he was just … worried. Nadir had already lost so much. If anything were to happen to Antoinette or the baby …

Erik felt a little tug on his leg, and looking down, saw a big pair of mismatched eyes looking up at him expectantly. At the age of ten months, Matthew had just recently begun taking his first steps, and when he had tired of being bounced on his mother's lap, he'd toddled over to daddy, Jenna following close behind. Bending low to retrieve his son, Erik gave Matthew a big smile and a kiss, as he lifted him high in his arms.

At that moment, a robust cry sounded from the delivery room. Everyone stopped in an instant and looked at one another.

"Could it be?" Erik asked.

"Oh, I hope so," Meg returned.

"Let's go find out," Erik began, charging toward the delivery room door, Meg rising to follow right after him.

"Erik, wait!" Jenna put an arm on his shoulder to stop him.

"You need to give them time to finish," Chris agreed with Jenna.

"What more time do they need?" Erik bellowed. "They've been in there for hours."

"Babies need to be cleaned, and they may be tending to Antoinette. . ." Jenna explained.

"What's wrong with my mother?" Meg asked nervously.

"_Nothing_ is wrong with your mother," Chris squeezed Meg's hand tightly. "She is very healthy. She's just fine."

"You know," Jenna exclaimed in exasperation, "Just because I practically gave birth in Grand Central Station, doesn't mean _every_ woman needs to go through that. Maybe Antoinette just wants some alone time with her husband and baby."

"It's a boy!" Nadir called out in elation, as he threw open the door to the delivery room. He stood there, dressed in scrubs—much like the ones Jenna wore the first time Erik saw her. He had a papery blue hat covering his head and a mask was tied loosely around his neck, falling down around his chest. A wide smile, full of delight spread across his face, as he exclaimed, "A beautiful, perfect, healthy baby boy!"

Meg looked over at Chris and kissed him joyfully, then jumped up and ran over to Nadir pulling him into a big hug. Erik, likewise, pulled Jenna into his arms, and the three of them, Erik, Jenna, and Baby Matthew giggled in glee. "Congratulations, Nadir!" Chris, who had made his way over to the proud papa, said while shaking his hand.

"So when do we get to see this wondrous child, Daroga?" Erik asked, with a smirk on his face.

"You can come in now, for a few minutes," Nadir said, but then cautioned, "but Antoinette will need her privacy to feed him soon, so it must only be a short visit."

"We understand completely," Jenna said with a smile.

Meg and Chris followed Nadir into the room first, with Erik, Jenna and Matthew walking in behind.

Antoinette was lying in the hospital bed—her usually upswept black hair cascading out on the pillow behind her. She smiled down serenely at the tiny bundle in her arms. A few wisps of thin black hair gracing the crown of his head, dark brown eyes peering out behind impossibly long black eyelashes.

"Oh mama," Meg said, as she gazed down at her little brother taking in this strange new world for the first time. "He's so beautiful!" She felt Chris put his arm around her shoulder and squeeze. She knew he was thinking about one day, in the future, when they might find themselves in this same position.

"He's simply gorgeous, Antoinette!" Jenna gushed, as she bent a little lower to get a better look at the angel in his mother's arms. "What's his name?"

"His name is Amir," Antoinette answered in a voice that was both exhausted and proud. "It means prince."

"And he is one!" Meg gushed, taking the baby in her arms, and cooing at him quietly.

"Congratulations, Daroga," Erik told his friend with a sincere smile.

"I am happy for you. _They_…" he added with a meaningful look, "are happy for you."

"I believe they are, Erik," Nadir nodded, thinking about his departed first wife and son gazing down on him from Paradise. "I believe they are."

"You haven't seen him yet, Erik," Meg said, walking over to the two men. "Isn't he handsome?"

"If he is, then he must take after his mother," Erik quipped, giving Annie a wink. Looking more closely at the child, and remembering another young boy who, years ago, shared a similarly angelic face, he cocked his head to one side and said "But I believe in this case, he more resembles his father. Yes, he is the spitting image of you, Daroga," he confirmed with a smile, making Nadir puff up in pride.

Just then, Matthew, who was still perched in Erik's arms, let loose a loud, high-pitched shriek, and began squirming wildly in Erik's arms. "Matthew," Erik muttered in quiet alarm, trying to reposition his son so that he wouldn't fall. "Matthew, hush." But Matthew did no such thing, becoming more and more animated with his father's every effort to calm him.

"Erik," Jenna called from Antoinette's bedside, "I think he wants to see the baby."

Glancing over at his wife, and then again at his still wiggling son, Erik brought Matthew a little closer to Meg. Immediately, the boy leaned over to take a good look at Amir. A wide smile of absolute glee spread over the boy's face, as he reached out and touched the infant's hand. Instinctually, the newborn wrapped his fingers tightly around the older boy's hand, as he gazed up at Matthew in pure wonder. Happy little giggles bubbled up out of Matthew's throat as he began to shake the baby's hand.

Jenna's heart swelled with sweetness to see the connection that the two babies had already made. It was as if they were born to be best friends, and maybe they were, considering who their fathers were.

"Look!" Meg said in awe. "They are making friends."

Nadir looked over and caught Erik's eye. With a rueful smirk, Erik commented, "You had better hide your bottles, Matthew."

Jenna rolled her eyes and shook her head, muttering, with a giggle, "And so the story continues. . ."

**Aww, Baby Matthew and Baby Amir are going to be best friends-and I am certain, when they are just a little older, they will raise all sorts of holy heck together-kind of like another pair of friends that we know!**

**OK, so, as I said before, this is not THE END, but just a pause in the action. I love Erik and Jenna, so I definitely look forward to revisiting them and posting little glimpses into their lives. Look for the first one around Christmas-if not before. **

**BUT, I have also begun my next story, which is completely unrelated to _The Secret Door_. It is called _Prelude_ and it is the story of a little girl named Annie who comes across a terribly disfigured boy who is being cruelly displayed as an exhibit at a Gypsy Fair. It follows their relationship from their first meeting when they are both around 11 years old, all the way through and past the events with Christine in the final lair. Have you ever felt that Antoinette Giry seemed to know more about the Ghost than all the others? Have you ever wondered why she alone was allowed in Box 5, and why she delivered all of the Phantom's notes? Well this new story is an attempt to explain why-and also to show that perhaps The Music of the Night was not necessarily over after Christine left with Raoul, but was simply the _Prelude_ to a far greater symphony. **

**Anyway, I have just started writing _Prelude,_ so it's going to be awhile. It is a darker tale, and it will also be M rated. As always, I will write the entire story before posting, because I don't like to leave my readers hanging. And, like _The Secret Door_, I hope to one day have it published on Amazon. BUT, if you would like a preview snippet, please just let me know in your review, and I'll PM you a little Preview of _Prelude_. And PLEASE don't forget to favorite/follow me as an author if you'd like to read _Prelude_ once it begins posting. (Probably some time next year, since I also have a demanding "day job" that takes up a bit of my time. **

**Thanks for making this AU so much fun! I really feel like we had a Phantom party going on in here! Hope to see you all for the vignettes and for Prelude!**


End file.
